


New England block

by fenrislorsrai



Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness (Games), rage collectible card game
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon Compliant, Character Death, DID I MENTION HOW MUCH BLOOD THERE IS?, Garou, Gen, Semi-Canonical Character, Vampires, Vermont, Violence, Werewolves, black spiral dancer, blood so much blood, evil spirits, how many people can I kill in this?, silent strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenrislorsrai/pseuds/fenrislorsrai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Silent Strider comes across a murder scene and shortly finds a bunch of Black Spiral Dancers on his tail.  What are they doing in the middle of the rural Vermont? and why are they suddenly so hot to kill him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murder most foul

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally written in 2000-2001 and is semi-canon. see end notes for a longer explanation of "semi-canon".  
> Fair warning: GRAPHIC BLOODY DEATH IN PARAGRAPH TWO.  
> Later chapters won't be nearly this gorey. Most of rest of series will be rated teen. There's one chapter that will be rated mature for even worse violence. It will be clearly labeled.

_"Paradise lies in the shadow of swords."_  
"Paradise lies in the shadow of swords."  
"Paradise lies in the shadow of swords." 

The words rattled through the Ghiyath's head as he tried to take in the scene before him. It was so out of place and so unexpected he wasn't even sure it was real. Surely this could not be what the Uktena witch had meant. Trust the Uktena to be cryptic, but he could not see how paradise had anything to do with the bloody horror before him. 

The snow was drenched with blood, the blood of a mother and her child. The late afternoon threw the scene into deep shadow, making it seem grimmer still. It was a metis cub, true, but in this day and age, few tribes were so savage as to kill their own over such an all-too-frequent offense. Someone had taken the poor woman and pinned her to a tree with a sword so that the blade stuck out the back of the tree. The blow had been so hard that part of the hilt still stuck out of her ribs. From the looks of it, they'd probably done it while she was still alive. There wouldn't be so much blood if she'd been dead. 

The pup looked even worse as it had been pinned beneath its mother. It was so drenched with blood that he couldn't tell what color its fur was. No clue as to what tribe it had been. The Strider hoped Black Spirals had done it, because if any other tribe was so sick and twisted to do this, Gaia help them all, the end must truly be near. 

The blood was still wet, just starting to freeze, so whoever had done it couldn't be too far off. He debated for a moment whether to search for a trail while it was still fresh or give a proper burial to the two. What good would he do burying them now when they'd already been so badly abused? He started to turn away and felt a chill run down his spine, the touch of something unseen. No, no, he'd seen too many humans left roaming the dark secret parts of the spirit world because of violent deaths such as this. Garou supposedly went somewhere... else when they died, but... he wasn't really sure where. Better to give them proper burial just in case that somewhere else was just as bad as the places he'd gone, places bad enough to stain his fur dark with their touch. 

There was no good way to do this. He doubted he could pull the sword back out so he would have to tear the body loose from it instead. He shifted up to Crinos and for a moment he thought of how comical he must look. _Anubis tending to the dead, how appropriate._ He almost laughed. It was better than crying. 

“You are beyond pain now, but forgive me for what I must do to your body. It is but a vessel for the spirit, but none should ever have treated it so poorly." The sound of tearing bone and flesh sickened him, but the body was free now, surprisingly heavy still. The thought rattled through his head, _why does a body empty of life always feel heavier than one that's full of it?_

He lay the body down and folded her hands across the ruins of her chest. He could almost cover up the hole where the sword had been. Almost. Now that the body was down, he revised his opinion. It wasn't really a sword per se, but a Klaive. A quick glance at the body revealed an empty sheath. She'd been spitted on her own Klaive and her pup on a silver dagger. He couldn't bring himself to mangle the pup pulling it loose; he'd probably tear it in half. He wrapped his claws around the hilt of the second blade and pulled with all his might, to be rewarded with a heart-rending wail from the pup. 

He stumbled and fell in shock. It couldn't possibly be alive! Ghiyath dropped the knife in his shock, letting the pup fall with it. He leaped back to his feet and pressed his nose to the tiny body. The smell of blood was overwhelming. He whined and licked it, praying he hadn't been imagining the whole thing. It felt so cold and limp. 

He shifted down to Lupus and picked it up by the scruff, carrying it away from the bloody puddle at the base of the tree. He curled himself around the cub, whining and trying to lick some life back into it. He licked it clean and dry, but....nothing. The wound wasn't as bad as he'd thought, but the cold seemed to have done what the knife had not. He let his head fall in despair. He would bury the pup with its mother just as soon as he gathered the strength to do so. He lay there, he did not know how long, lost to the depths of despair, before he felt it, the slight tickle in his ear as the cub exhaled just enough to stir the hair. 

He bounded to his feet, tail wagging foolishly. He shoved his nose into the pup, drinking in the scent of it, letting his breath warm it. "Was this what the Uktena meant, little one? I rejoice to find you alive, but will the shadow of tragedy always hang over you? Will Paradise always be threatened?" He lay back down, curling around the pup. "I guess it is. The Wyrm's coils grow ever tighter, threatening to crush Gaia. The serpent that threatens the Garden of Eden, as the humans would put it. But you are too little for all this. I babble and you don't hear me, and even if you did, wouldn't understand yet." 

He leapt back to his feet. "I'm talking nonsense and you need food and shelter and...and a mother..." His eyes fell back on the brutalized corpse of the pup's mother. "I'll kill the bastards for you! The monsters that took your mother and tried to kill you too! Even if they're my own people..." He paused, looking back to the tree and the blade beneath it, then glanced back to the corpse. 

He went back to his natural form, and picked up the knife in his hands. He considered leaving the other one buried in the tree, but they looked like a set. He wrestled with it for a moment before it came free. He knelt by the corpse and used the edge to hack off some of the woman's long bloodstained hair. He fumbled with her belt, pulling it free and putting the shorter blade back in her sheath. The belt did not fit so he slung it over his shoulder like a bandoleer 

"Forgive me, mother, but I cannot bury your body. Your cub still lives, but I need to take it somewhere to be cared for, quickly, while it still lives. I take this lock of hair so that I will have something to call your spirit with, so you might see your cub again, so that she will have something to remember you by later." He brandished the Klaive before her face. "I'll use this to take vengeance on those who did this to you. And if I cannot have vengeance, may your daughter wield it some day and use it for a nobler purpose." 

He kissed her on the forehead, pushing aside the sight of her mangled body to show this one last kindness. He scooped up the cub and called upon the spirits to lend him great speed so that he might make it to a sept with the cub. He ran and didn't look back.

 

 

 

 

Night came and still the Silent Strider ran on, the cub cradled in one arm and sleeping fitfully, the Klaive gripped in the chilled fingers of his other hand. A half moon rode in the sky and the Symphony of the Abyss rode on the wind. 

"Do you hear, little one, do you hear the cry of the creatures behind us? They come to finish their work I think. Shh... I have not come so far to let them have you now. Soon, soon, we will be close enough to call for help." 

He raced on, the ground blurring beneath his feet, but still the mad whining howls came echoing through the forest. He glanced up at the moon briefly and felt fire rise within him. _Thank you for your gift, Luna,_ he said in a brief and silent prayer. He gave up the form he had been in, bulking up to Crinos. It slowed him a little to weave through the trees in the larger form, but he would rather not be caught unawares should his pursuers catch up with him. 

"Just a bit farther..." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a few glyphs scratched into the bark of a tree. He was inside the bawn, someone would surely hear him now if he cried out. _And here I break the Litany myself, for I have brought the Wyrm down upon this caern_ he thought. Ghiyath raised his muzzle and cried out, howling out a warning of the Wyrm spawn that dogged his steps. He howled with all his might, desperate for someone to hear him. But it was cut short as it twisted into a scream of pain. Claw marks appeared across his back as one of his pursuers raked its poison coated claws down his spine. 

He crouched, blade at the ready, a snarl upon his lips and the cub clutched tight to his chest. 

" Give it up, we are all around you..." the twisted Garou snarled out, licking the Strider's blood from his claws. Cackling laughter rose from the shadows and one by one, glowing baleful eyes materialized out of the forest. 

"Never! I'll fight you all!" More hideous laughter came from the onlookers. 

"Make it easy on yourself, give up now. We'll make it quick." The enemies surrounding him found this incredibly amusing. 

"What are you so afraid of? One wounded Garou with a metis pup and you are too afraid to fight!? Come, come dance with me, come dance with Ghiyath and Dhul Fiqar!" The name came to his lips unbidden, and he knew it was the name of the blade in his hands, or more properly, a Name. He feinted at the Spiral before him, who hastily got out of the way, eyes warily watching the Klaive 

Howls sounded in the forest, he had been heard, help was on the way!... assuming he could hold the Spirals off that long. Even now he could see them tensing to spring. He reached down deep to the fire within and waited, coiled to strike, ready to unleash his full fury on his attackers. 

They sprang and he sprang as well, silver flashing in the moonlight, blood flying and screams and howls rending the night air. A flash of bright shining fur and claws drove back one of his attackers, and the snarls of other Garou joined the fray. He fought in a haze, a red mist slowly creeping over his vision as his fury took over. There was nothing but blood and death in the air and as frenzy took him, no way to tell friend from foe anymore...


	2. Meet the bad guys and the worse guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bad guys are introduced and we find out how exactly Ghiyath ended up running into that many BSDs in the middle of nowhere.
> 
> Plus warning for blood, gore, mutilation, and discussion of murder AND cannibalism. Plus a sucking chest wound! Black Spiral Dancers are not even vaguely nice. at all.

Nuntisiwas could tell he needed a shave but there seemed little chance of that in the near future. Perhaps the stubble and hollows beneath his eyes would lend the proper grim air to the proceedings. He thought of such things frequently as he was, first and foremost, a great showman. Everything about him was very calculated, very precise, especially when things appeared disordered. Creating the semblance of utter chaos was a true challenge, worthy of his skills. Of course, so far as he could tell, such skills were utterly lost on his current associates.

He sighed, reached for a mirror and pulled a well-worn straight razor from a hidden fold in his clothing. Indeed, such subtleties would be entirely lost on the miserable creatures he was currently in command of. Dolts, the whole lot of them, good for breaking heads and not much else. Not that this was an entirely useless skill when dealing with his current target, but still, he did not entirely trust them to complete their mission unsupervised. He might eventually have to take to the field himself, but if he moved too soon, he might lose his quarry once again. Truly this was the greatest hunt he had ever had.

He grinned maliciously at his own reflection and straightened out his mustache. A brief flash of irritation crossed his eyes at the fact he had caught himself idly twirling it. These creatures expected such behavior from such an august and utterly evil and maniacal personage as Nuntisiwas the Dreamreaver. Not that it was truly his name, it was just the most recent.

Again, he caught himself at it, this time stroking the goatee in the all too stereotypical villainous manner. He snarled and smashed his fist through the mirror, hitting it again and again until he drove the image from his sight, thoughts skittering through his head. The rational part of his mind calmly stated: _The reflection is truer than what I can touch and see and smell normally._ Another less rational part of his mind screamed in desperation: _But I'm not the person I see in the mirror, I can't be!_ He looked down at his bleeding fist, jagged chunks of glass sticking out of the knuckles. The reflection had to be truer or else all was lost... was the price of his own sanity worth more than the whole world?

 

* * *

 

Kabula giggled as she walked into the boss' office. It looked like he'd had one of his fits again. Her packmate smacked her across the back of the head. Anger flared within and she turned to slug the arrogant little creature.

"What did I tell you about knocking?" Nuntisiwas spat, sending a chunk of glass skittering across the floor to land at the feet of his idiot henchmen. Pulling the glass shards out with his teeth was quite dramatic and it made him feel better.

"That you would cut the thumbs off the next person who failed to knock on your door before entering" said the gore covered Philodox as he slunk in after his packmate. "However, Kabula tore the door off the hinges on our way out this morning, so there is no door and no need to knock."

Nuntisiwas resisted to urge to roll his eyes. "Trust the Philodox to be absolutely literal. You could have pounded your head into the wall to announce your presence. I don't think it would have damaged anything but the wall."

Kabula burst out laughing as F'foeg S'sap's skin flushed a deep red. Nuntisiwas spat again, this time getting some blood into the mix. The Philodox was practically shaking with fury, grinding the teeth in his misshapen jaws together audibly. Angry thoughts flitted across F'foeg's mind, striving for coherency and mostly failing.

Nuntisiwas spoke again, cutting off the metis' train of thought. He'd seen that look of utter hatred for superiors far too many times and on far too many faces to let it go for long. "I trust you have come to report the successful completion of your mission?"

"Yes, executed flawlessly. The local Garou should be properly terrified and outraged. We made sure to kill her slowly and messily to get as much blood out of her as possible, as instructed. Now all we have to do is wait for nightfall...?" F'foeg S'sap's voice trailed upwards, making it a question. He obviously did not like the fact that he was not privy the Nuntisiwas' plans.

"I still think we should have partially eaten her" Kabula added, wiping a string of drool off her jaw. She constantly salivated, but this thought clearly had some special appeal.

"I thought I told you to use a man, a fairly specific man at that." Nuntisiwas paused in his ministrations, blood drooling out of one corner of his mouth. He quickly wiped it away when he noticed the similarity to his underling's disgusting slobbering.

"We could not get to him, not before nightfall..." again the slight questioning tone. "So we grabbed some wench we found out alone. Ronin probably, since there was no pack with her."

"She had a whelp though, we did that one too." Kabula gleefully chimed in, then pointed at a tiny set of bite marks on her blood smeared forearm. They stood out clearly against her corpse white skin. "The bastard bit me too. Damn metis scum." She looked pointedly at the Philodox as she said it, just to see his reaction. He flushed again and she could see a vein twitch in his head.

"She had a metis pup with her? How interesting." Nuntisiwas searched his mind for a loner who would be in that area with a pup. Perhaps...? No, he'd seen her recently and it was difficult to hide such things.

"Yeah, it was real convenient too. She even had an extra knife we could use on the pup, more like a big silver letter opener really, but it matched the Klaive real nice. Put it right through her heart to hang her up on the tree..."

Kabula yelped and threw herself to the floor as Nuntisiwas roared and pitched the desk at her. "Can't you follow even simple instructions!?" Glass shards popped and flew as his hand rearranged itself, shoving out the intruding material in the process. A few seconds later and he'd lost all hold on his human form. His coat in Crinos form was raven black with a slight oily sheen to it that made it seem almost deep purple in places. In the shadowy confines of his office, it seemed to drink in the light, making him seem even more sinister.

F'foeg S'sap held his ground. Angry Crinos Garou were just a normal part of his day so far as he was concerned. "You told us to gut and hang someone up as bait. We did that, just not with the person you intended. If we had waited to use the person you suggested, we would not have finished in time. Which would you have preferred, complete failure, or partial failure?"

Nuntisiwas snarled and dropped to all fours, creeping towards the insolent little Spiral. He so hated dealing with his type. He panted heavily, teeth inches from the metis' face, drinking in the scent of blood on him. F'foeg's brown hair was slowly drying into darker spikes. Under the overwhelming smell of blood, he found the scent he had feared finding. It was someone he knew, someone with a name. And under it all he could smell the rank, musky odor of the Spiral. The bastard had enjoyed every minute of his task; it had **excited** him.

"I gave you a very simple task, which you did not complete. You said she had a Klaive, did you at least bring that back?"

"No, we needed something to stick her to the tree with and it was convenient. It also burnt." The metis turned his hands over, slowly, not wishing to irritate his boss any further. "See?" Blisters did indeed cover the palms of the metis' hands. "It even burnt Kabula, and it's not like she minds the pain usually.

"Let me see." Nuntisiwas pulled Kabula to her feet roughly, studying her hands, which were just as blistered as the F'Foeg's. The Ahroun failed to flinch as he prodded at one large boil until it popped.

"It's not like it usually hurts me any, not like you poor wimpy fellows." She pulled a heavy silver ankh out of her clinging shirt and dangled it close to Nuntisiwas' eye. She giggled wetly, spraying spit onto one of his ears. "Feel the burn, baby!"

"Enough of your foolishness!" he swatted the offending piece of jewelry away and could feel a slight cold burn at its touch, seeming to sap his strength. "You should have brought it back regardless! If you are so impervious to pain you should know better!" He stared eye to eye with the giggling Ahroun for a moment, until she sobered up. A Crinos staring you in the eye usually has that effect.

"I know you have more brains then you let on" as he tapped her pointedly on the head with one huge talon. "Why didn't you wrap it up and bring it back?"

"'Cause it burnt even through his t-shirt." She pointed a finger at the blood drenched F'foeg. "That why he's so messy. He took his shirt off to wrap up the knife while we put it through her. Then he wrung it out and put it back on. But it didn't leave no marks on the shirt, just on him. It must be spirit stuff."

"Indubitably. But, spiritual wards or no, we need to retrieve it. Someone will turn it back against us. Better to suffer a few burns and place it out of the reach of Gaia's defenders then let them use it against us, no?"

"Uh... no. Yes. Um, yeah, whatever you said. So we gotta go get it now?"

"Yes, and we'll take the others too as our quarry should be up and about as well by then. We can complete both tasks at once." Nuntisiwas snorted at the two. "And clean yourselves up, unless you really wish to be bait as well."

 

* * *

 Nuntisiwas looked over his troops, such as they were. They truly were expendable, he knew it and the people he had obtained them from knew it as well. The trick was making sure they never found out just how expendable they were. They were all trouble-makers, misfits, freaks, or just plain morons. The dregs of Black Spiral society had been gathered together for a suicide mission. Perhaps it would actually help the Spirals in a way to get rid of some of these creatures, but the loss of bodies would still be a blow. It did not really matter, it was all for the greater good of the Wyrm, right? No matter, the hunt and the kill were the important thing, not the loss of life.

" Sir, are you ready to instruct us in our duties?" F'foeg S'sap hissed from next to Nunitsiwas' shoulder. The Philodox fancied himself the second in command, as did Kabula, and many of the other Spirals here. Playing them all against each other without losing their loyalty was a dangerous game. Giving them the information now that it was too late to turn back would do no great harm.

"Of course, I would not dream of going into battle without properly briefing my people." He smiled stunningly, but there was a hard edge to it, and F'foeg drew back, trying desperately not to look overly frightened. The smile broadened as Nuntisiwas watched him, for he knew the Philodox was in awe of his power and would do as he wanted. It was a trick he found most useful when dealing with his subordinates as they were all cowards at heart and would not dare oppose him.

"Ah, my dear tribemates..." He didn't have to raise his voice much to get their attention, they had been waiting for him. He took his place at the front of the motley pack, seemingly looming over them all, even the ones in Crinos. He had a certain presence about him, no matter whether he wore his native Homid form, or something more exotic.

"I have brought you all together for a very important task. No single pack could handle such a hunt, thus why I've gathered you together from so many different hives, to gain some of the strength of each of those places, the favor of their totems, and the wisdom of its members." A blatant lie, but none of them could tell anyway, nor would they dare question him. They were too busy preening over the insincere ego stroking.

"We will be hunting the most dangerous prey any of you have ever seen. Many of you have felt the burn of silver, the rake of claws, or the agonizing kiss of balefire, but that is as nothing compared to what we face now. Our foe is clever and strong as any of you, versed in both the ways of the Gaian Garou and our own ways, but loyal to neither. He is an opportunist of the worst sort, one who walks between two worlds but belongs to neither. We got after the most deadly of foes, a wolf who has joined the ranks of the undead!"

There was stir among them at that. Outright fear showed on some faces, puzzlement on others. He doubted any would be brave enough to question him outright, but he would need to allay their fears before they set out.

"Ah, but you must be thinking, are not the undead servants of the Wyrm just as surely as we are? That they may be, but they serve themselves first and foremost and do not pay proper homage to their true master, to the one who gives them their power. They are treacherous creatures, and this one more so than any other for he wears a familiar face. He must be destroyed before he turns against us, unless you wish to wake some evening to the feel of treacherous fangs in your throat...?"

They still did not look enthusiastic about the prospect of fighting the undead, but the nervous looks into the gathering shadows seemed to indicate they would do as told. They were convinced of the necessity of the mission if nothing else. That was all he needed. The sun would be down soon and his prey would be drawn to the bait left out earlier. If a few of his soldiers were still uncertain, there was nothing he could do about it now. Time was of the essence.

Nuntisiwas threw back his head and howled, shifting to Crinos in the process so that the sound broke and distorted, dropping several octaves in the process."We hunt! We chase! We kill! Death to the abomination!" The others answered, though their howls were tentative at first. But fervor is contagious, as is fury, and soon enough the Spirals had worked themselves into a properly murderous mood. Some had already succumbed to frenzy by the time Nuntisiwas finished his howl and went leaping into the darkening forest. Just so long as they found something to spend their fury on, preferably the actual target, everything would be going according to plan.

 

* * *

 

Nunitsiwas bounded through the snow, the scent of blood in the air drawing him just as surely as it would draw his prey. Soon it would all be over. He ran in front of the pack, leading it on, glad that the frenzied creatures behind him were bound to his will for the moment. His nose twitched and his eyes flew wide as the scent he had so long sought after came to his nose. He had tracked the creature seemingly forever, but the scent had never been so fresh, so immediate. He had been running on the memory of it for so long that he stumbled, shocked at its actual presence.

He leapt forward, eager for the kill, bounding into the clearing. Blood covered the snow and a body lay among it, seemingly sleeping. He howled and leapt for the body, his rage temporarily overcoming all sense. His teeth tore into the throat of the corpse, the cold flesh easily giving way before his fury. The taste of cold, dead blood in his mouth brought him back from the brink of madness. He peered at the corpse's face, a face he knew, but not that of his prey. His legs grew weak for a moment as the person's name tried to claw its way to the front of his mind. _No, no time for regrets, I will remember later, when there is time for proper thought…_

He recoiled and looked around frantically, wolfen nose twitching furiously, trying to pick up the faint scent of the abomination. There! He leapt to the chase again. It HAD been here, but it was gone now. He ran, the forest blurring around him, blundering into trees he did not see. He could not lose the scent now, even as it wove in and out with the scent of another. He snarled in fury that someone would dare take his kill from him and pressed himself ever faster. There was only the scent trail. Nothing else mattered. Everything else was an enemy to be overcome, the forest, the one who ran before him, his own body and its demands that he slow down. None of it mattered.

 _The beast will die tonight. The beast will die tonight. The beast will die tonight._ The thought ran through his brain and drove him on, the beat of it matching the pounding of his feet, of his heart, of his obsession. Somewhere behind him the rest of the pack ran, but he was only faintly aware of their existence, of the mad wails that rang through the forest.

How long the hunt took did not matter, only that it would end sometime. Minutes, hours, days, even years could have flown past and he would not have known. He was lost in the endless now of the wolf side of his nature.

The space between him and his target was crossed in what seemed the space of a single agonizing heartbeat. He abruptly snapped out of the near trance he had been running in as he caught sight of the dull silvery flash of his target's fur. Every muscle hurt from his prolonged exertion but he pushed himself on. He could not let weakness overtake him when his chase was so nearly over.

A rough bark came from behind him "We'll get the Klaive back boss, we almost caught up with him!" F'foeg S'sap bounded past him in Crinos, eager to redeem himself. His dark fur contrasted sharply with Kabula's ghostly white form as the two slipped past.

"Thanks for breaking the trail boss, the snow's getting deep!" Kabula barked out, kicking snow into his face. His subordinates would have to corner the beast since they were fresher. They had saved their energy by following his already broken trail.

"Move it, old man!" Jonathan Roark took the opportunity to cuff his leader on the way past. "Get out of the way if you're too weak to make the kill."

Nuntisiwas lunged after the lean, shaggy Crinos, jaws snapping shut to take a piece out of the insolent whelp's tail. He would reprimand him later, assuming he lived, but right now he would have his moment of glory. He would not give it away to some idiot pup who never would have amounted to anything without his leadership.

Up ahead he could already hear sounds of fighting. "Give it up, we are all around you..." F'foeg S'sap called at his opponent.

"Never! I'll fight you all!"came an unfamiliar voice. Nuntisiwas knew the sound of his prey's voice, and this was not it. He caught up with the ones who had overtaken him before. The Spirals who had been trailing were only a few steps behind him now.

F'foeg continued. "Make it easy on yourself, give up now. We'll make it quick." The ring of Spirals laughed. Kabula literally shook with laughter, apparently on the verge of having a fit. Nuntisiwas saw nothing funny in this at all. His pack had cornered a Silent Strider, not the fallen Shadow Lord he sought. He was about ready to scream in frustration. _You idiots, are you so easily distracted from our true prey? We hunt the undead, not some damn fool messenger!_

The Strider seemed unafraid of his fate. "What are you so afraid of? One wounded Garou with a metis pup and you are too afraid to fight!? Come, come dance with me, come dance with Ghiyath and Dhul Fiqar!"

Nuntisiwas turned away, he would leave his subordinates to their bloody work. There was no calling them off now; he was just too tired. He would have to try and get them back on the proper trail after they had had their fun. And then Nunitisiwas saw him, the object of his obsession, just standing and watching the impending slaughter. His fur was a pale grey, lifeless and dull, ruffling slightly in the slight breeze. The abomination might as well be a statue for all the animation he showed.  
"You! I'll have your head stuffed and mounted on my mantle, Montoya! Enough of this infernal cat and mouse!" Nuntisiwas leapt at the abomination then, claws flashing, and a roar bursting forth from his chest.

"Do I know you?" Allonzo Montoya seemed genuinely perplexed at the furious assault directed at him and was slow in pulling his weapon. Claws struck deep and the undead creature's precious blood splattered across the snow.

"Do you know me!? Do you know me!?" A red haze seemed to drift before Nuntisiwas eyes. "I've only hunted you these many moons, you bastard!"

"Oh, so you're the nuisance. I've had enough of you!" They fought back and forth through the snow for a moment or two. It seemed like eternity. The undead wolf seemed tireless, for he had no need to breathe at all. Nuntisiwas was already exhausted from the chase, and he panted heavily. Rage was all that was keeping him fighting. Allonzo took advantage of Nuntisiwas' growing fatigue and struck too swiftly to be seen, sinking the bane-infested sword he wielded deep into his opponent's shoulder. Nuntisiwas screamed at the pain of having some of his very soul sucked away.

His scream was answered by a chorus of howls, clean, clear ones, untouched by the madness of the Wyrm. Perhaps they would be able to save the Strider he had given up on earlier. He did not really care who won at this point, just so long as they killed Allonzo as well.

The object of his hatred pulled the silvered blade out, boldly licking blood off the blade. He started to fade out of Nuntisiwas's vision then. _Am I dying?_ Pain shot across his throat, followed by a wave of intense pleasure. He thrashed ineffectively, claws raking feebly at his now unseen attacker. Sounds faded in and out. He could hear the battle roaring about him, but no one seemed to care about one fallen warrior and the unseen monster slowly taking his life. Neither the Garou who had leapt to the Strider's aid nor his own underlings could save him now. He resigned himself to a slow death by exsanguination.

The pain let up for a moment, but he was too weak to rise. The creature hissed in his ear. "If you want me so badly, run so close upon my trail, perhaps I should let you have some of me. Perhaps just a little taste, just enough to let you have what you so love to hate, hrmmm? Just a little taste..."

Blood splattered on his nose and into his nostrils, making it difficult to breath. He involuntarily licked at it and gagged at the taste of the foul, lifeless ichor. "Stop torturing me and be done with it!" His voice was hoarse from weakness and the wound in his throat.

"As you wish, oh mighty hero..." Nuntisiwas braced himself for the killing bite but instead was reward with the unearthly scream of his foe. He looked up to see a shining set of claws protruded from the writhing abomination's gut. The blow from behind had caught the beast unawares and it had been unable to properly protect itself.

Allonzo looked about to wrench himself free, but Nuntisiwas reached up and hooked his own sharp claws into the shining ones that had saved his life. Silvery flames licked about his paws, but the fire could not leap from the clean white fur onto his own dark, oily pelt.

"Kill him! Strike before he gets free!"

The shining paw clamped shut over his own in a near bone breaking grip and Allonzo thrashed and howled, shaking with each new blow to his back. He twisted about to catch his attacker's eye.

"Let me GO!" the beast shrieked and abruptly the attacker's grip loosened.

Again the abomination faded from Nuntisiwas' sight and he was left looking at the stunned face of a young Silver Fang. He struggled to sit up.

"What are you doing!? Kill him before he escapes again!"

The shining young Fang looked utterly stunned. "But...he said to let him go..."

"It's a trick of the mind! I can't let him get away again!" He lunged to his feet, swaying uncertainly. Battle still raged around him and he could see great savage wolves hounding his followers. The Strider lay amidst a ring of bodies, his thin chest barely rising and falling. Both the twisted hulking bodies of his own followers and the lean lupine bodies of the Garou who had come running to defend their territory lay in the pile.

"Wait, wait! You're too hurt to be chasing after that thing, it almost killed you once already! Let me heal you first." He reached out a shining hand towards the great dark Garou who swayed before him.

"Are you daft?" Nuntisiwas had heard the Fangs were mad, but to heal one such as him was utter folly! It did not seem to deter the Fang any and he could feel the great wound on his shoulder starting to knit closed.

"Hey boss! We need to go!" Kabula screamed as she went racing by, two lean and hungry looking wolves hot on her heels.

The Fang's jaw dropped. "You're... you're, you're with THEM!? But, but, there's no darkness to you..."

"What do you mean?" Nuntisiwas stared deep into the youngster's eyes

"You... you..." he couldn’t seem to articulate his thoughts.

"BOSS!" F'foeg appeared, clouting the hesitating Fang out of the way. "It's a total disaster, they're ripping us to shreds! We have to retreat!" He drew back to strike again, to finish the Fang, but Nuntisiwas stayed the metis' hand.

"We go. Now." F'foeg bounded off as angry howls rang through the woods. More of Gaia's defender were on their way. Nuntisiwas caught the Fang's eye for a brief moment before bounding into the darkness. "I owe you a favor, shining one."

The Fang watched the retreating Spirals and their leader in utter confusion. He made to call after them, but his voice fell to a mere whisper. "But how do you know my name? And how can you hide your true face from me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The structure I had to work with for Azrael was odd number was BEFORE a tournament, the even number chapters were AFTER an event. So I had to work in stuff from whatever happened at the tournament. I had NOT been intending to have Alonzo Montoya in here at all, but he was in EVERY wyrm deck at the tournament, so... yeah. kinda stuck there. (stats for him appear in Warriors of the Apocalypse, 127-128)
> 
> F'Foeg and Kabula appear in 1st edition Book of the Wyrm on page 81 and were attached to a pack in New York city. in BotW Kabula and F'Foeg are both described as trying to take over their original pack. So Gamush solved his intrapack problem by sending them off on a "special mission" with Nuntisiwas. 
> 
> Jonathan Roark appears in Rage: Warriors of the Apocalypse on page 99 & 100\. He's listed as being from Washington DC and is yet another low level Spiral Nuntisiwas picked up.  
> Nuntisiwas the Dreamreaver was specifically created for Azrael's expansion.


	3. We're all strangers here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from Azhar's point of view. Ooh, look some explanation of what the hell is going on. We've finally gathered the main PC party!  
> For those confused on location, they are somewhere in northern New York state/Vermont border area.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only warning for this chapter is some dead bodies and blood in aftermath of battle.

Azhar shook off his brief reverie as he watched the Spirals retreat into the night. The encounter with their leader left him cold. He had seemed so...noble somehow. He had called to him, not literally, but on some deep emotional or spiritual level. He was not sure which. He seemed important somehow, like there was something vital he had to do. Azhar had leapt to his aid without even thinking.

The young Fang wiped a bloody paw across his eyes, silently cursing his own talents. Sometimes he just knew... things. He was drawn to important people, to important things, to important places. He had known the dark furred stranger was important, knew he had to help him escape from the thing that had crouched upon his chest like some nightmare given flesh.

He had never dreamed that he would end up helping an enemy escape. _And healing him afterward!I must be losing my mind!_ he thought to himself. _This talent is a great nuisence at times, but it's never steered me so wrong before. I think. Maybe it's less reliable than I think._

He stood for a moment and felt as if he was being torn in two. Part of him wanted to leap after the Spirals, to run beside their leader and find out what could possibly be so important that his instincts had said to help this man. The other part wanted to stay here, to find out what the fight had been about to stay with...someone...there is someone equally important here...

He shook himself mentally and clenched his fists tight enough to dig the tips of his claws in. The eerie white flames he had called to his hands earlier, flickered and faded as if snuffed out by his mounting frustration. _Who is it? Who is so important?_ He tried to focus on the feeling, to see which way it wanted to pull him. It was not an exact science by any means, just a vague feeling that he should go somewhere or do something. Of course, he did not always know what he was supposed to do when he got there.

He could practically scream in frustration. _Why did I have to be cursed with this 'talent'!? All it does is get me in trouble!It drew me across the ocean to see the King, to see this new kind of rulership. It drew me here to help a Black Spiral and now I can't even figure out who holds me here now!Maybe my family is as cursed as the sept elders said.._. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

He looked over the battlefield, taking in the scattered bodies, the bloody snow, the eerie whiteness of the trees, pale and straight as bones. It was fitting place for so many to die. His eyes came to rest on a particularly large tangle of bodies in a rough circle around a young black man. Immediately he knew. That was the one who was important. He picked his way between the bodies, feeling his chest grow tight with sorrow and anxiety. Five cruelly twisted bodies lay amid the pile, clearly some of the Spirals from the attack. Two lanky young wolves lay with their jaws locked into the flesh of the Spirals, refusing to give up the fight even in death.

Azhar knelt besides the other young man and carefully looked over the claw marks that crisscrossed the other's back. He carefully pushed a claw into the wounds to judge how deep the wounds were and found that not only had they cut into the underlying bone, but that blackish pus was already starting to ooze out of the wounds. _That's the trouble with Black Spiral Dancers, anything they touch grows foul and corrupted, even simple wounds_.

A slight whine made him pause in his probing. He had not thought the other man was conscious enough for anything he did to cause any real pain. The whine was repeated and he looked around quickly, sure it had not come from the man. Poking out from under the other man's chin was a delicate little muzzle. He lifted the man's head to find a metis pup huddled into the warm spot under his jaw.

"Well, that explains why he fought so hard now doesn't it?" Another whine and the pup turned towards the sound. "Shhh, quiet, little one." He placed his unbloodied hand near the pup's muzzle. Tiny sniffs stirred his fur, and then a little tongue rasped across his pads. He carefully picked the cub up and laid it across his leg. It burrowed into the fur, making little whimpering noises.

"There, there. I'll see to your...father? and hopefully he won't eviscerate me for taking you from his grasp." Azhar paused and cleared his mind, reaching inside to pull forth some of his own spiritual strength as he laid hands on the man's back. He felt the brief drain as he channeled his energies into healing as the spirits had taught him. The flow of blood ebbed, puss drooled onto the ground in great streams, and bone knit back together as the great claw wounds that marred the man's body pulled shut. The marks were still vaguely pinkish and probably would scar. _Should I try again and see if I can close them all the way, or save my energy in case it's needed for someone else? It'll leave scars, but they're trophies he came by honestly enough._

The Fang laid one great paw on the black man's side and gently tapped at him with one claw. "Wake up. Your pup is worried about you." The cub whined plaintively as if to add emphasis to the request. The other man stirred slightly, but it would still take him a few minutes to come around. Azhar proceeded to look around in the meantime, watching as lean wolves slowly materialized back out of the woods. They moved in utter silence, drifting in and out of the shadows between the trees like ghosts. Considering how bloody the battle had been, and how eerie the surroundings, he wouldn't have been at all surprised if they had been ghosts in truth. Not that Garou usually became ghosts, but sometimes they lingered on as ancestor-spirits.

He could hear the howls of other Garou some distance off, apparently making sure the Spirals were good and gone. A nearby howl shortly drowned them out. It was simultaneously fierce and plaintive, a howl expressing both the sorrow at a packmate's death and the promise that it would not go unavenged. Azhar listened in silence, letting the locals honor their dead before they had to deal with new problems.

He watched one wolf creeping across the bloody snow towards him, slowly spiraling in towards him, one fierce eye focused on him as if waiting to see if he would back down. Azhar held his ground and resisted the urge to keep turning to keep the wolf in sight. It crept up to the pile and sank its teeth into the back leg of one of the Spirals and slowly started to back away dragging the corpse. Now that he was practically nose to nose with the wolf, he could see it was blind in one eye, thus why it had been so cautiously circling him.

"Please, if you have a moment, could you tell me where exactly we are, and who we should thank for their aid?" he rumbled in the Garou tongue, trying to sound as polite as possible. Not that this was an easy task, trying to sound polite in a language that consisted primarily of snarls and guttural words. Instead he tipped his ears back in a submissive manner, but kept his tail up. Polite was one thing, submissive another entirely, especially since he was a Silver Fang.

The wolf paused in its task. "You are in our bawn, by the stream that runs over the rocks that shine so bright in the sun that it makes it hard to see. The ones who came to your call were from the Blood Red Pawprint and Wind Runners packs." It went back to pulling at the carcass.

"Thank you for being so precise, but I am not from this area, I do not know what caern we are at, or who controls it." He perked his ears forward a little more, trying a slightly more dominant stance.

The wolf paused again, one ear twitching slightly in amusement. "You talk funny. This is the Sept of Luna's Den. We are Red Talons."

"I thank you then, and I am sure he will thank your people for their bravery when he wakes." He could feel the other man stir beneath his hand and looked down to see him looking back at him groggily.

The wolf growled slightly. "The others will not be satisfied with just thanks. He led them here, he led them to our caern. They will wish retribution for the dead."

Azhar looked down at the other man. "Did you hear what he said?" A slight nod. "Is it true you knowingly lead the Wyrm here?" He seemed to think for a second and then nodded again. "It is a serious charge."

The black man coughed and spat up some blood. Clearly the wounds had been deeper than Azhar intitially thought if they'd punctured a lung. He answered in a raspy voice. "I know. I did not think they were so close behind. I thought I would be able to warn them first, to tell them what I'd seen. The pup slowed me down. Is it all right?"

Azhar pointed down at the pup where it was nestled into the fur of the his leg. "It's just fine, if a bit cold. You are a very good father to protect it so well."

The black man coughed again. "It's not mine. I found it and its mother nailed to a tree out in the forest. Looked like some sort of sacrifice. I was going to tell the packs here that there was some sort of cultish activity going on, probably Black Spirals, and then push on to Rutland. There's a pack there that's mostly metis, and I figure they might know how to take care of a pup better."

The wolf growled, ears laid back and tail up aggressively. "You lead Wyrm to our caern for some metis pup!? You should know Litany says "Do not take an action that violates a caern" unless you are a very stupid pup."

"I know!I didn't know I'd have a whole pack of Black Spirals come chasing after me!I was too close to the caern when I picked up their howls to veer out of the way without running right back into their teeth!Would you rather I had continued on so I was sure I was close enough that you'd hear the warning there was a pack of Spirals on you border or run right into them and let them sneak up on you unawares?"

"We have sentries, we would have seen them." The words were clear enough, but the set of the tail said the wolf was not so certain the sentries would have spotted them in time.

"Eventually. But how much damage would they have done by then?" "None, because they would not have been here at all except for you leading them here." The wolf's tail was back up and the ears forward as he tried to stare down the wounded man. The two stared intently at each other and Azhar could feel his fur starting to rise in response to the unconcealed hostility between the two.

Azhar looked back and forth between the two for a moment and then out at the bodies lying in the snow before huffing slight to get their attention. They immediately broke their staring contest to look at him. _I'm the biggest one here, and yet I feel the smallest. Perhaps I shouldn't have interrupted. Too late now._

"Hrrrr, I am not all that familiar with the area, but I count eight dead Black Spirals here, and there were probably at least that many more that escaped. Isn't that rather an unusually large amount of Spirals in one place at one time? Do they normally run in packs 15 or more strong here?"

The other two looked at each other for a moment, human eyeing wolf and wolf eyeing human until they mutually agreed this took precedence over their contest. The wolf pawed at the snow nervously. "There is a Wyrm hole many mountains towards the setting sun, but the packs do not usually come this far. They are usually small and move fast."

The black man continued "I've never even heard of them running together in such numbers unless you were right on top of a caern that fell to the Wyrm, or possibly a hellhole. It's a good point. I don't know what a pack that big was doing so far away from their homes. Maybe there's a caern you guys don't know about, maybe a new one."

The wolf bristled again. "We would have seen that!We are not stupid!We would not let them breed so close!"

"I didn't say you did. Maybe they just got to the area. But I don't know what they were doing here. Well, I guess I do." A growl from the wolf indicated the man should explain very quickly or face the consequences.

"The woman and her cub, the ones that were pinned to a tree looked like they'd been sacrificed. So maybe they were doing some ritual out here, I just don't know why or what for."

"Perhaps..." the wolf and the human both looked back at Azhar like they'd forgotten he was there, which was fairly impressive considering he was in Crinos. They could freeze water on a midsummer's day with that look!He twitched his tail anxiously and tipped his ears back submissively. "One of the Spirals, the one in charge, I think, because I heard one call it 'Boss', was fighting with something else, something...worse than it was."

"What could be more disgusting than a Black Spiral?" The wolf looked genuinely perplexed. "I don't know really. I just knew it was somehow worse. It looked like a Garou, but not." He scratched at an ear with one claw. "I mean, it looked like one, it was in Crinos, but it was like there was something missing."

Now both Garou were intently staring at him. He swallowed convulsively and then continued on, speeding up in anxiety. "You know how when you're with a group of wolves and some of them are Garou and some are just wolves, the Garou have more of...of a presence, like they're more real somehow. It's subtle, but sometimes you can just tell they're more than just wolves. It was like that, but the reverse, like everything that made it a Garou had been stolen away and there was nothing left but the form."

They were both giving him a somewhat skeptical look. The wolf snorted "I did not see this thing, and no one else said they saw something worse than a Spiral. Perhaps you are confused. You sound confused. You look confused." He sniffed at Azhar's leg. "You smell a little more certain."

"I've got it's blood on my claws!" Azhar held his bloodied hand out towards the wolf, who sniffed it as well. He grimaced and rubbed his muzzle into the snow. "Just more Wyrm stink. Your claws smell like you sharpened them on a corpse. I will ask, but I do not think anyone else saw your beast. Perhaps you are trusting the wrong sense. Eyes are easily tricked."

Azhar hesitated. "Maybe you're right, maybe no one else saw it. It kind of wavered, like it wasn't quite there really... I really didn't quite see it until I tried to see what was pinning the Spiral to the ground and make it thrash about. It didn't look like death throes, and then the thing sort of wavered and appeared when I looked at it too close. It was solid though, I put my claws through it and then it turned around and commanded me to let it go and it faded back out. Maybe it was a spirit of some sort, but the blood looks so real..."

"What do you mean, it commanded you?"

"Just that, it commanded me to let it go and my hands let go without me getting to think about it at all."

"You let the Wyrm thing go?" The wolf looked incredulous.

"The Spiral screamed at me to kill it before it got away and tried to drag itself after it. He seemed absolutely desperate to kill it." He whined slightly, trying to placate the other Garou.

The wolf snorted again. "Wyrm fighting Wyrm is good, let them kill each other. Very strange, it does not do that usually. It bites its' tail sometimes, but not during a battle. You are stupid to let the thing go. Did you kill the Spiral at least?"

Azhar shook his head. "I didn't realize it was a Spiral until some of the other ones showed up and knocked me out of the way. I was trying to find out what was going on, why it was fighting that thing."

The wolf looked like it was going to spit. "You are idiot cub then! Kill Wyrm, don't talk with it! Both of you are stupid!"

"I'm sorry, I just heard the howls and came. I didn't know what was going on. That was the first thing I saw. It confused me."

"STILL idiot cub!" The wolf snapped, and pawed at the ground, fur bristling in every direction. He looked like he was seriously considering leaping for Azhar's throat, even if Azhar was in Crinos and he was still a wolf.

"What the hell were you doing out here anyway?" The black man propped himself up so he could try and look Azhar in the eye. "It's pretty damn unusual for two wanderers to cross paths in the middle of nowhere, especially so conveniently. You don't look like anybody I've seen around before." Now they were both eyeing him suspiciously.

"I'm not from here. Look, we haven't even been properly introduced. I don't know either of your names and I really have no idea where this is." He grinned nervously and tucked his tail under submissively. "Let's try proper introductions and then we can go back to name calling and finger pointing."

The three eyed each other for a moment, trying to figure out who went first. All was silent for a moment until the briefly forgotten cub yawned loudly, turned over and promptly started snoring. The wolf snorted and shook himself and let his tongue hang out in a lupine grin.

"We bore even a pup with too much talk. We will argue when we know better what to argue about. I am Lone Wolf Circles, a Traveling Moon of the Red Talons. This is my caern." He looked up briefly and yipped at the half moon overhead. "This is my moon, but you call it differently."

The black man looked up at the sky as well. "It's also my moon. I'm a Philodox. Is that what you meant, that we call it differently?" A slight tipping of an ear from the wolf indicated it was. "My name's Ghiyath, I'm a messenger for the Silent Striders, so claim no caern as my home. I think the pup's name is Paradise. Or so an Uktena witch told me."

Azhar watched the other two and let his ears creep back forward and his tail come back up. _A Silver Fang should not cower..unless it keeps him alive, but they seemed to have calmed down. No wonder they're testy if it's their moon._ "No wonder you both speak so well if you are both lawgivers. I'm Azhar Serpent-Slayer, a Theurge of House Wise Heart of the Silver Fangs. I'm from the Sept of the Shattered Stone Spring."

"I've never heard of it." Ghiyath looked rather skeptical again.

"It's in Israel."

"Where is..." the wolf spluttered for a moment, not able to force lupine lips around the word. "That place you just said."

"On the other side of the ocean."

"Aren't you kind of far from home? Don't tell me you got lost." Ghiyath asked. Lone Wolf panted in amusement at the idea that anyone could get that lost.

"Lots of foreign Silver Fangs are interested in coming to see King Albrecht. He's rather...different than most kings."

"Big understatement, but you don't seem entirely like other Fangs either. So you came to bask in his glory or some such?" Ghiyath seemed genuinely interested.

Azhar thought for a moment before answering. _If I'm to stay with him, if he's as important as I think, I should explain. If he doesn't trust me, I won't be able to stay with him, talent or no!_ "No, not really. I have a tendency to be drawn to places where important things are happening, or to important people or things, whether I want to go or not. Usually I just get pulled to places where there's trouble, or end up running around with someone who's about to get into rather a lot of it. Like you. I suppose it would be great if I was a Galliard, I'd have plenty of material for songs. Anyway, it was sort of inevitable I'd end up on this side of the ocean sooner or later. So I came and saw, and was told I should go out and about and get used to the country. I got a little turned around though. Snow is confusing."

"So you got lost in the snow?"

"I've never SEEN snow before!Well, I've seen it, way off in the distance on mountain tops, but I've never  
walked in it. It's rather unpleasant stuff. It's WET."

The wolf looked him over for a moment, an ear twitching in amusement. "You are in that form because otherwise you're cold, yes?" Azhar nodded sheepishly. Ghiyath burst out laughing and the wolf snorted in amusement.

"You're sure you're not from my tribe? I mean, you're from the Middle East, you've never seen snow, and you have this unusual talent for finding trouble. You're sure you're not a Silent Strider?"

"No, but I get mistaken for one an awful lot. For some reason people think we're all from Russia. The Fangs bred with the nobility everywhere and Egypt had a pharaoh and nobles when the Russians were still running around in tribes and hitting each other with rocks. Yet somehow no one associates the tribe with anywhere but Russia, maybe a little bit with the United States now with the coming of ascension of Albrecht to the throne." He bristled slightly at having his heritage mocked. It hit too close to home. _I'm as noble as any of the other young Fangs, even if my breeding isn't as perfect as it should be.._.

Ghiyath sensed his agitation and tried to soothe the Crinos crouched next to him. "Calm down, I'm just amused. You sound more like the stereotypical Silent Strider than I do. I'm an all American Strider from the Bible belt, I only have the Arabic name because my Uncle thought I should have a proper Strider name. He didn't think Reuben James Montgomery the Third sounded very appropriate. Hrm...actually it sounds like I got stuck with a name your folks would be proud of."

The two looked at Lone Wolf who perked his ears at them curiously. "I am just as I appear. Wolves are wolves, Garou are Garou, you monkeys have to make things complicated. I pity you, that you must deal with such confusing things. If you are done with your babbling, the others will want an accounting of how you came to be here and your thoughts on what is going on. I will attempt to explain the background, including the strange horrible foreign place where the winter snows stick only to the tops of mountains." He seemed like he did not quite believe that. Azhar resisted the urge to correct his assessment. Explaining a desert to a wolf that had never seen one would be very difficult.

Ghiyath reached out and gently petted the pup where it lay. "Perhaps the elders will have some better idea of what to do next. I'm kind of unsure what's more important at this point, deal directly with the cub that the Spirals seemed to want so bad, or to try and figure out what they're doing up here. Maybe the Uktena witch I spoke to before would know what's going on, but if the cub's that important, maybe it would be best to go to Rutland first and see if there's anyone there who knows how to properly care for it instead of me just muddling around."

"You can explain your circumstances and concerns to them more directly soon enough. Then they will tell you what they think is best. You should be as clear as possible, not all of them speak in complicated ways like you." He looked directly at Ghiyath for a moment. "You should speak as a Garou to them. Do not try to be what you are not. You will confuse the meaning if you try to speak as we do." At that, Lone Wolf Circles turned and trotted off into the woods in search of the sept elders.

There were a few moments of silence while the two men sat quietly, thinking everything over. The pup happily continued to snore occasionally from where it lay on Azhar's leg.

Ghiyath finally broke the silence. "He was very articulate for a Red Talon and much more tolerant than I would have expected. They tend not to be very friendly."

Azhar scratched idly at an ear. "He understood you speaking English. The few Red Talons I've met before spoke no human language. Perhaps in learning it, he learned to speak his own better as well."

"A very odd Garou."

"And we are not?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ghiyath is totally in trouble for the whole thing in the next chapter. He's not off the hook, even if he did have a good reason.
> 
> No page references for this one as they're all characters that appeared only in Rage. If you want to see art of the characters, they appear in the New England block for Rage (Paradise appears as a Victim rather than a character):  
> http://www.werewolfcardgame.com/index.php/cards/fan-card-releases
> 
> and yes, we have now gathered the main PC party for this adventure. finally.


	4. All the horrible things happen at once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Black Spirals try to get their plan back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you somehow made it through the violence in the previous chapters I probably don't need to warn you about the random snarling, biting and punching that go along with werewolves.
> 
> However there's a very disturbing blood sacrifice in here too. You can read it several ways as to what sort of violation is used for summoning dark spirits but it may be VERY TRIGGERING for some people. want to skip the extra icky part? skip over the paragraphs that have a * in front of them. 
> 
> There's also cannibalism in here. AGAIN.

" ...and so I knew I had to come this way." Azhar swatted a raven feather that brushed past his face on an errant breeze. He grinned nervously and scratched at one white ear wth his claws.

"Explain again how you know these thing." One of the wolves sitting around the Fang snapped. A second wolf snapped at the first, pulling a tuft of fur out of its ruff.

"No speaking out of turn, whelp!" The first wolf bristled and growled, taking a few stiff legged steps towards the second so they were muzzle to muzzle. The second seemed unimpressed by the dominance display and growled back, pawing at the snow.

"Both stop." The two wolves looked at a third grizzled wolf as it shoved its muzzle between them. "He is a Theurge. He is wise in senses you do not use. He explained enough."

The second wolf dipped its head in ascent and turned and sat back down farther away. "You speak wisely and should be heeded." He turned his attention back to Azhar, mollified.

However, the explanation did not seem to have pleased the original objector who remained standing, tail up and still trying to stare down the second, who was utterly ignoring the display. The grizzled older wolf shoved a shoulder into the younger one, sending her tumbling. A quick nip at the youngster's belly sent her scampering back to her original place, tail bristling, but properly tucked under submissively.

" Continue."

The Fang eyed the young wolf for a moment before speaking. "So I came this way, and then heard the howls warning that something was coming..."

 

  
"Boss?"

The scene started to fade out of sight as Nuntisiwas'concentration wavered.

"Hey. Boss."

He steeled himself against losing it all together.

"YO BOSS!" Nuntisiwas calmly reached out and throttled his lieutenant. F'foeg made most gratifying gagging noises. Nuntisiwas cracked an eye open to coldly glare at the metis writhing in his claws.

"I am busy." He let go and shoved F'Foeg away, trying to compose himself before he lost the tenuous link with the raven feather talen he was using to spy on the proceedings.

"But... you're just staring at nothing..."

"Kabula, crush his throat, would you?" Nuntisiwas turned his attention back to the scene unfolding some distance away, trusting his lieutenant would make sure he was not disturbed by any of his other lieutenants.

 

  
"I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to offend you! Forgive me, forgive me! I am but an ignorant cub, I throw myself upon your mercy and trust in your wisdom!" Azhar ground his muzzle into the snow and the dirt beneath as he groveled before the ring of snarling wolves. In the snow beside him, the young wolf who had objected earlier lay twitching in a pool of her own steaming blood.

The grizzled elder snapped at Azhar, causing the Fang to tuck his tail further beneath himself. "You are right! You are ignorant and we should tear you apart for your stupidity! You let the leader of the Spirals escape and now you strike down one of our own tribe members!" She lunged forward and tore a long jagged chunk out of Azhar's ear.

He whimpered and attempted to lick at her muzzle. "You are right! I am a foolish cub!" He licked at his paws and rubbed his muzzle across the ground again, unconcerned with how foolish he looked, a Crinos Garou groveling before a wolf.

The older wolf started to lunge for him again but found her shoulder blocked by one of the other wolves, which had shifted up to Hispo. He kept his bad eye towards her as he spoke, using the more elaborate words of the Garou tongue to convey his point as much as the weight of his body  
.  
" Yes, he is a foolish cub, but he is wise, yes? He sees his mistake, and he bows to your judgment. He is a wise cub, a brave cub to admit what he has done, but still a cub. Would you kill your own cub for such a transgression, Growls-at-Moon? No, no, cubs are too precious, they are too few. Hackles-High will live. She is just as young, but more foolish still than this one. It is not her place to judge, but to fight. That is her place. She should listen to her elders, to the words of her mother. Do not hold this pup responsible for the foolish actions of one of our own. If you punish him for defending himself, you should punish Hackles-High for leaping to attack him before you ordered it."

The grizzled female shook her head and backed off. "No wonder you are a lone wolf. You talk too much for us to tolerate."

Lone Wolf nodded slightly as he slid his bulk further between the alpha wolf and the groveling Fang. He kept his tail relaxed, neither up and challenging, nor tucked under and submissive. He was matter of fact. "Yes, yes, far too much. You are most wise."

"You are a poor wolf because you lie with both your voice and your body." Growls wrinkled her lips as if she had tasted something foul.

"I do not lie, wise one, I merely tell it a different way then is in your mind. It is the same song, with a different tune and perhaps a different ending...?" as he perked his ears forward questioningly.

"The Fang may keep his life. He knows his place and his mistakes. He will pay for them later. You will make sure of it since his life is yours."

"I do not know if I can deal with such responsibility."

"You are no cub. You will be less trouble doing this than anything else."

"Most wise." Lone Wolf tugged at Azhar's scruff. "Come little pup. We will go before she changes her mind."

The Fang cautiously got to his feet, tail firmly tucked up against his belly. "But.... should I...?" He looked at the Talon he had struck down. "I could heal her first."

"She tried to kill you once."

"But she didn't hurt me, I hurt her. I should fix it."

Growls-at-Moon broke in. "Let her suffer for her foolishness, as you will for yours. She will be healed when I say. I speak, you obey. Go!"

  
Azhar did not wait around, but bolted quickly away. A few of the wolves that had been watching this whole drama unfold started after him, but the snarls of their alpha kept them in place. A quick snap indicated that Lone Wolf should also remove himself from her presence as quickly as possible. The swirling wind and the raven feather that danced in it trailed behind the two.

"Thank you, I think. But I don't know what to do next. She said my life was yours, so you should know, I guess..." Azhar twitch his tail, uncertainly, looking at his Red Talon savior.

"You have very good instincts, but think too hard. You think, you get confused. Do not think about what she wants, do what she wants. She will be happy if you, and the other one, try to repay her for the two warriors she lost. She does not like to lose anyone. She has lost many packmates, she has lost many pups." Lone Wolf circled around Azhar, keeping his good eye towards the Fang while also looking back to see that the other Talons would let the matter drop.

"Then, maybe, if we take the pup and make sure it lives, it no one else will claim it, maybe... but Red Talons don't take metis pups do they?" Azhar nervously peered back towards the ongoing growls, afraid the Talons had changed their minds already.

"Not usually. They are permitted to run with the pack if they can keep up and will not be too great a burden. It used to be they would simply tear the pups apart, but any pup is too precious now, especially to our alpha, to be killed lightly." Lone Wolf huffed slightly, and went back in front to lead Azhar further away.

"So I gathered. I shouldn't have struck that one that leapt me, I suppose?" Azhar dropped to all fours, apparently content to let the more experienced wolf lead him.

"No, Hackles-High needed to be hit." Lone Wolf grinned maliciously. "She will not let anything keep her from her target, from pleasing herself, from pleasing her mother, even what she is told."

"Wait, I hit the alpha's daughter!?"

"Yes, her only surviving cub, actually. But you are an outsider. You only need to face her anger once, not every day for doing what needs to be done. It could have been better timed though."

"I am in soooooooo much trouble."

"Instincts, follow your instincts. They are sound."

"My instincts tore me between staying with Ghiyath or running beside the leader of the Spirals. They're not very good."

Lone Wolf's ears perked in interest at that tidbit of information, and some distance away, Nuntisiwas' did as well. "Do you still wish to run to him?"

"Not to, with. There's a difference. And yes, no, I don't know. Maybe. I'm curious now, so that's part of it, but other than that, no. Maybe if I saw him again, maybe I would. I can't know for sure until I see him."

"I tell you, you have fine instincts, even if you do not always know why you have them. Remember, you just knocked a furious Ahroun flying when she attacked you from behind, without being hurt yourself. Your instincts know better than you what to do."

"But I'm not a fighter." Azhar shook his head.

"You are currently as big as bear and have claws the size of my muzzle, and you are no fighter? Every Garou is a fighter first, everything else second, it is what we are made for. Some just listen better than others. Listen then, and tell me what your heart tells you."

"Right now, it tells me to stop running and sit down." Which Azhar did indeed do. "Well, Ghiyath said the two thing he thought of were either going to see the pack in Rutland who'd know how to take care of the pup or to go see the Uktena, to see if we could find out more. I wish he wasn't sleeping off his injuries. Philodox are supposed to be good leaders." His eyes darted to Lone Wolf for a second. "Sorry. But you're not really so directly involved."

"I am now." Azhar fell silent for a moment, ears twitching slightly. He absent mindedly swatted at the raven feather that swirled past his ear. Lone Wolf sat patiently for a few moments before snapping at him. "Stop thinking! Instinct!"

"Errrrrr... we should see to the pup first and..."

Lone Wolf's ears perked forward expectantly. "Good. Yes, and...?"

"I should eat this damn feather!"

 

 

Nuntisiwas gagged and spat, scrubbing one paw across his muzzle as he tried to wipe the sensation of being snapped up by a Silver Fang out of his mind. No matter how well bred the Garou, Crinos still have bad breath and a mouth full of wet oozing slobber... He shook himself and tried to shake off the sensation. That was the problem with using such devices to extend the senses, there was the risk of experiencing most unpleasant things. Of course, he had never had anyone EAT one of his talens before, so it was not a risk he had anticipated.

" You look like you licked the floor in Grand Central Station."

"Thank you for that mental image, Kabula. I do hope you are not speaking from experience." He looked up at his lieutentant who was standing in a strip of snow that she'd clearly been pacing back and forth through. F'foeg was lying down nearby, tail tucked over his nose in the cold.

"This one time Horlaq and me got in this boasting contest about who was the craziest..."

Nuntisiwas made a sharp motion with a claw, cutting her off midsentence. "Would you like to be throttled as well?" Another sharp gesture as she opened her mouth. "No, don't answer that. From F'Foeg's silence, I will presume you did as I requested. Good. If you continue speaking, however, I shall shortly forget how helpful and obedient you've been. Would you like to be in F'Foeg's place right now?"

Kabula looked stricken for a moment, like she was unsure whether she should answer or not. She finally settled on nodding rather than risking irritating Nuntisiwas further. "Excellent. Now, go fetch me a Theurge. I don't care which one. One that I don't know the name of."

"Why?" Kabula promptly smacked herself in the head for letting curiosity get the better of her. Nuntisiwas smiled nastily.

"It is very simple. You two have certain talents, but they are not the ones I need right now. We have acquired a more subtle and perceptive foe than you are used to dealing with. Perhaps foe is not even the right word. An obstacle, let us say. I have need of a Theurge's skills. Up until now they have all been nameless cannon fodder to me. They are the lowest of the low, the dregs of Spiral society. Why should I bother learning their names. They'll be dead and replaced by tomorrow. Only the ones I intend to keep get names, right F'Foeg?" The silent metis nodded furiously, eager to agree.

"Thus, I will elevate this Theurge to the same level as you two, my trusted lieutentants." Kabula and F'foeg eyed each other, clearly not liking this idea one bit.

"Dependent upon how well he performs the duties I require of him, of course. So be careful in your selection. I will be displeased if you bring me one that cannot perform the services I need, but make sure you find one you can work with as well. I should not like to see any sort of infighting between my underlings when I rely on you so much." The two preened slightly at his words, but Kabula still seemed uneasy about the compliment, as if she could sense how insincere he was.

"Go, fetch, both of you. I need to think." The two slunk off, thinking about who to pick from the motley crew of Spirals following Nuntisiwas.

 

 

Once they were out of sight, Kabula looked down at F'Foeg where he slunk along beside her in Crinos. "Let's get somebody we can beat up. He might be smarter, but if we can beat him up, he'll remember who was here first. We don't get along, but we were in the same pack. And we were here first, so can we agree to stand together if he shows too much favor to the Theurge?" F'foeg coughed and clapped Kabula on the back sharply by way of agreement. "Sorry about the throat. You know how it is. We can only afford to fight each other when there's nobody else in the way. We'll see where the new guy stands. And if he's in the way..."

F'foeg drew a claw across his throat quickly and grinned, showing off the twisted teeth in his malformed face. Kabula punched him in the arm. "You're smarter when you aren't talking."

 

  
" This is..."

"No names yet. I wish to see how...it performs first." Nuntisiwas sniffed at the vile little creature before him. 'It' truly was the appropriate term. He was unsure what festering cesspit his lackies had pulled this thing out of, but he rather wished they had left it there. It was nearly hairless, its skin odly colored and wrinkled, and stretched out into strange membranes in all the wrong places. The hands were malformed and appeared nearly useless for any sort of fine manipulation. It truly was one of the worst examples of Black Spiral breeding he had ever seen.

"I wish you to do a summoning for me."

"Surely you are capable of attracting the attention of any spirit you wish with no need for one such as myself." It kept its head down submissively, but there was a distinct mocking undertone to the voice.

"You are quite right. I attract a lot of attention. Unfortunately, I require something a little more potent than the mindless little spirits that flock around any Spiral of sufficient power. Also, I need things which will not be so easily distracted or detected. I need the services of more powerful spirits, ones capable of thinking and acting independently of a patron. In short, I need ones that will not respond to anything but the most powerful summoning, the sort best left to specialists."

"Ah, so you would like something truly spectacular, something with many names, something that cannot be casually bound into a prison by one of similar skills?"

"Precisely. I shall need to send it near a rather powerful Uktena witch"

The Theurge spat up something grey and squirming. "That will be difficult to acquire. Learning the names of such powerful creatures will require considerable time and effort."

"I want it done today."

"I cannot do it today...unless..." The creature grinned up at him, showing off a mouthful of needle sharp curved teeth. "You would be willing to provide a sacrifice for me to use."

Nuntisiwas growled sharply. "I do not wish to waste another body. It attracts too much attention. We have attracted too much as is."

Kabula coughed. "We could use one of the ones that's hurt. They'll just slow us down anyway and make it easier for those wolves we ran into earlier to catch up."

"Excellent." Nuntisiwas and the Theurge spoke in unison and then eyed each other with distaste. Nuntisiwas continued. "I suppose I have a selection to choose from, unfortunately. Tell me, is..." He grinned maliciously "Jonathan among the injured?"

"I thought you didn't know anyone's name?" Kabula looked suspicious again.

"He has displeased me. Sometimes it is a bad thing that I know your name, as it makes you easier to hurt." He looked purposely at F'Foeg, who nervously rubbed at his throat.

"No, he's not. I could go pick someone random that's wounded."

"A pity. Go, do not tell them why I want them."

He turned back to the Theurge. "I will require these hunters to be subtle, yet relentless. Powerful, yet clever as well. I wish them to get the information without leaving any trace they have been there, if possible. They will need to extract the information from an Uktena, so force may be required, yet also subtlety or else the witch will die rather than surrender her secrets."

"I have some idea of what to try summoning, but I shall read the entrails of the sacrifice to try to gain further guidence. Amid his screams I shall hear the whisperings that will tell me the names of those I need to call." The Theurge rubbed its malformed paws together with glee.

Nuntisiwas spat, thoroughly revolted by the vile little creature. "Just do it, I have no need to know the details of the work, nor inclination." The Theurge grinned even more broadly and trundled about like some sort of obscene windup toy as it marked out glyphs and pretonic keys in the snow.

F'foeg and Kabula returned a few minutes later, by which point Nuntisiwas was seriously considering kissing them. _Disgusting._ Held between them was a gibbering young man who seemed utterly unaware of where he was or of the fact that one of his legs was hanging on by only a few strips of skin.

*"Carefully, carefully, do not step on the markings. Put him down here, and hold him down. He will start to thrash once I begin cutting and that will not do. I need the blood to run just so" as it pointed "so that it will fill those marks slowly and then spread outward from them. Yes, hold him down, one to each arm. And you be ready to hold his head when he shifts."

*Kabula and F'Foeg did as told, crouching over the man in Crinos. The theurge straddled his hips as it ran its claws over his bare chest. The touch was lingering and rather more intimate than should ever be used in public. "Ah yes, a fine, fine sacrifice. If it were not for the leg, but ah, the spirits will be forgiving of such imperfections if he is properly displayed..." as the creature dug its claws into the young man's chest.

*Nuntisiwas turned away as the screaming started. The Theurge continued his muttering, crooning to its hapless victim as if it were trying to sooth a crying baby. Even as it spoke, it slowly peeled away more and more of the young man's flesh, as it writhed and shifted under his touch as the boy's body tried desperately to heal itself. The screams soon turned to piercing, wailing howls and the Theurge's crooning was sporadically intrupted by muttered curses from Kabula and F'Foeg as they tried to restrain the thrashing Garou.

*Nuntisiwas was torn between looking and not looking. _Surely my mind will conjure far worse images than anything that is actually being done and my underlings will see it as a sign of weakness if I do not watch at least part of it._ He turned back and decided that his imagination was quite tame.

*The Theurge had flayed all the skin off its victim's chest and was now slowly peeling down the arm, murmuring and nuzzling at the boy's neck. Each scream and whimper grated on Nuntisiwas' nerves, but seemed to please the Theurge immensely. It rubbed itself against the young man, delighting in the new screams as raw muscle and shattered nerves were scratched across its warty hide.

*Nuntisiwas nearly gagged in disgust as his mind flashed to an entirely different scene, a far more pleasant one, now tainted by the sight of the Spiral's rite. The Theurge continued to peel off the man's skin without tearing it, almost as if it were peeling off a shirt. It stroked and caressed the raw, bleeding flesh of the young man, coaxing ever more impressive wails out. When simple touching failed to elicit the proper response, it turned to more elaborate methods, clawing foul glyphs directly into the flesh, deep enough that its claws squealed across bone. Each scream seemed more piercing and desperate than the last, coming ever faster and more urgent until the boy simply howled continuously in agony.

*Suddenly the Garou went silent and limp, as all the fight went out of him. The Theurge paused in its ministrations, head cocked and a vile smirk upon its face. Its eyes were half closed and it swayed from side to side in a kind of deranged trance.

*It continued this performance for a few minutes while the skinned Garou made ever feebler whimpering noises. Abruptly the Theurge struck and the final wail of the young Garou rang out amidst the sickening crunch of breaking bone. Nuntisiwas turned away as the Theurge buried its muzzle amidst the cracked ruin of its victims chest. The wet sounds of muscle tearing and blood splattering onto the snow mixed with the mutter of the Theurge's voice.

Nuntisiwas rubbed at his eyes, trying, and failing to compose himself. It would not do to let any of them see him anything less than eager for killing. _Killing I didn't mind, but this senseless butchery and torture is more than even I can stand. There is only so much necessity can justify. The orders are so easy to give, but living with the knowledge that I have as much responsibility as the one who did the deed is just as surely torture._

"Can we eat any of it?" Kabula was drooling already.

"After, if the spirits do not demand the body, you can feed off the scraps." The Theurge continued picking through the entrails, not bothering to look up.

Nuntisiwas ground his teeth and balled his fists as he felt a cold fury well up inside himself. Black Spirals were vile, but to coldly murder one of their own and then calmly talk about whether or not to eat it was simply too much. He took that fury and gathered it up inside, using it build a mental shield around himself. He forced distance between himself and the proceedings once again.

He turned back, face composed into a cold mask showing nothing but his contempt for the whole situation. The Theurge was rooting through the boy's entrails, muttering about how each little bump and discoloration had significance and over and over whispering nonsense sylables. F'Foeg sat licking blood off his claws and Kabula poked curiously at the Garou's dead empy eye with one claw until it popped and ran.

Gradually a droning noise started to drown out the muttering of the Theurge. Nuntisiwas' skin crawled and his fur stood on end as if a thunderstorm were coming. He looked to the sky, but saw only the half moon looking back from a clear sky.

The night split in two as a thing of nightmares stepped out of nowhere. Its eyes blazed amidst the twitching, chitaneous limbs and scaley coils. Its form seemed unsteady and physically impossible, as if an M.C. Escher drawing had been given life by the nightmares of a homicidal madman.

"Why do you call me?" The voice was simultaneously brittle and wet, filled with vile undertones that brought to mind burbling mud and the snap of aged trees collapsing due to their own internal rot.

The Theurge started to speak, and Nuntisiwas cut it off sharply. "I have need of your services." The thing did not so much turn to look at him as suddenly reverse where its eyes and limbs had been, completely ignoring physics. Nuntisiwas coughed nervously, feeling his resolve weaken slightly when faced with such an utter affront to nature. "There are certain people who have gotten in the way of my latest efforts. Reportedly they were sent this way due to the visions of an Uktena witch. I wish to know what this Uktena knows and how it knows."

"A simple matter, not requiring my attention. Find some other creature to use."

"I require the aid of powerful spirits because this was most clearly not simple coincidence. All prepartations were made in secret and with great care to make sure that not even my assistants knew what was going on, thus causing them to somewhat foul up plans." He scowled at F'foeg and Kabula. "However, this resulted in a last minute change even I was not aware of until after the deed was done, and yet somehow, this Uktena knew of the event, and moved to put someone in the position to interfere with my plans." He neglected to mention that those plans had been constantly changing as the affair had become an ever greater disaster. "This is well beyond the skill of any of our Theurges and it is impossible to anticipate how this foe will next strike. If this Uktena can predict the actions of the Wyrm's forces before even we know what they are, we are in most serious trouble. Thus I need the services of something more powerful than myself to deal with this threat."

The creature seemed to be considering for a moment. "If it is as you say, this is a terrible threat indeed and worthy of my attention. If you exagerate..." the rumble of its voice made the threat clear enough.

"Of course. To find this creature, you need only find the sacrifice we made earlier today and track the Garou who interfered back to where he came from. That should lead you back to the witch. I leave it to you to figure out the best means of dealing with this threat. I would, however, like to get a report of how it turns out, and what else this witch knew."

"It will be little trouble to break this creature. There is, however, the issue of payment for these service."

"You have already had one Garou sacrificed for your benefit and you can feast on the remains of the woman, along with the body of the Uktena."

"But we are three and that is but the payment required to attract our attention. We will require a further services and sustenance. The price will be greater if the task proves particuarly difficult."

"Three?"

"Myself and my associates. We come together."

"And they would be...?"

"The local Garou call us the Dark Trinity."

"How...quaint. No matter, whatever it is, the price will be paid." Nuntisiwas lied and got away with it. The creature did not even seem to notice or care. It simply twitched slightly to indicate it had heard and agreed as it started to fade out, dragging the mangled corpse through the Gauntlet with it.

The noise faded and Nuntisiwas sighed. Where to get three more bodies?

"Hey, it forgot his leg! I've got dibs on it!" F'Foeg lunged for the mangled limb. Kabula punched him in the nose.

"No way, I want a taste of it and I did more holding him down!"

Nuntisiwas smiled. It wouldn't be at all hard to find three more bodies to feed to the banes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The storyline was being done at the same time the card block was being developed and a few things that were originally slated to be IN the card set were eventually cut for balance issues, including the item Nuntisiwas uses here, a Whisper Feather. It appears on page 54 of Shadow Lords, 1st ed.  
> and no, he is not a Bringer of Light. nice try.
> 
> Growls-at-Moon's original stat appear in Rage Warriors of the Apocalypse on page 44-45. She's older in this particular story, so increase stats accordingly.  
> Hackles High was made for Rage as was Lone Wolf Circles. there were two new Gaia characters for every tribe in this set (except stargazers), so congrats, you've now met all the new Red Talons. 
> 
> The wyrm factions all had slightly more characters than the gaia factions. You've now met all the BSDs. You'll meet the rest of the Banes in a later chapter. If you want to see their w:tA stats, the Dark Trinity appears on page 272 and 273 of werewolf the apocalypse core book, 2nd ed.


	5. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because they all speak the same language doesn't mean they understand each other.

“They ate my shoes! Rotten porcupines!” Lone Wolf Circles leapt down out of the tree he’d been dangling from, a pair of shoes hanging around his neck.

“You have shoes?!?” an incredulous comment from Ghiyath. Lone Wolf simply held up the pair of shoes in question.

“What’s a porcupine?” from the foreigner. Lone Wolf liked him better, he didn’t ask silly questions. He also had an amusing way of talking. He pronounced things oddly.

“They’re slow sweet tasting animals that are easy to catch...if you use a stick.” Lone Wolf sat down and started lacing his shoes.

“What’s a stick got to do with it?”

“They’ve got big spines on them that come out when you touch them and hurt really bad. So you use the stick to flip them on their back and then eat them.” Lone Wolf stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth, trying to remember how to tie a knot.

Azhar looked perplexed still. “So it’s like a tortoise.”

“It is furry.”

“You have furry tortoises?”

“You have SHOES?” Ghiyath seemed to have been wandering around in a daze ever since Lone Wolf had assumed Homid form. Apparently he had the impression that Red Talons only had forms with four feet. Lone Wolf snorted in amusement at the mental image of a human with four feet.

“You two have shoes, why can’t I have shoes?”

The Silent Strider spluttered. “But...you’re a Red Talon! They don’t wear shoes! They don’t wear clothes! You’re doing both! What the hell kind of Red Talon are you!?”

“The practical kind. I can not go into the city with you on four feet so I go on two. The ground is cold and there are sharp unpleasant things on the ground there, so I will wear shoes. Wearing shoes because I have to is different than doing so because I want to.” Lone Wolf finished tying his shoes and realized he’d tied his finger into the knot. He untied it and started over with a sigh.

“Furry turtles ate your shoes? But you still have shoes...” Azhar looked so perplexed.

Lone Wolf sighed. Dealing with these two was going to be a real test of his patience. Humans seemed to have this strange desire to have everything explained. 

“Porcupines are like big prickly beavers. And they just chewed on them. They like the salt from sweat.”

“What’s a...”

“A big rat that swims in water.”

“Ooooooh. So porcupines are like spiny mice.” Azhar seemed to have had his question answered finally. Of course, now Lone Wolf had some of his own. The image of a mouse sized porcupine formed in his mind.

“Mice don’t have spine! And Red Talons don’t have shoes! Or clothes!” Ghiyath waved his arms around wildly.

Lone Wolf sighed and finished tying his shoe laces. Apparently Ghiyath still hadn’t gotten his question answered, and wouldn’t be satisfied until the stupid thing had been. “ I do. It makes it easier to go into the city when I have. I don’t like the city. It is loud and stinks and things move every which way with no sense, but sometimes we do need to know what is going on in town. People do not talk to wolves. They do not talk to naked shoeless people either. I have clothes and shoes so I can go talk to them if I need to. It is called being prepared. Being prepared to do something does not mean that I enjoy doing so, or will be called on to do so, just that I can do it if I need to. Just because Azhar know nows how to kill a porcupine doesn’t mean he will have to, but he knows how if he needs to.”

Azhar nodded slowly, processing the information. “That makes sense. You must be very clever to prepare so much in advance. I guess speaking English falls into that category too?”

“Yes, people that do not speak English are not well liked here. They send men in blue outfits after you who try and stick you in cars and take you somewhere if you do not speak English and have no clothes.” Lone Wolf had an odd sparkle in his good eye.

“But Red Talons don’t speak English and don’t go to town!” Ghiyath still was not comprehending what Lone Wolf was saying.

“I am speaking English right now, and I am going to start walking to town right now, so I guess we do.”

“But...but...but... things like this just don’t happen!” There was more wild arm waving, like he couldn’t talk without using his hands.

“You can stand there and sputter, or you can come along and see this truly impossible thing. Silent Striders always like to see new things, yes? Then you will love this!” Lone Wolf started off with Azhar in tow, leaving Ghiyath sputtering for a few moments before the Strider hurried to catch up with them. Lone Wolf liked the Strider. He was very entertaining.

* * *

“What’s that one say?” Lone Wolf pointed out the window at a billboard.

“Er...it’s an ad to buy a car at a specific place.” Azhar peered at the unfamiliar signs.

“How about that one? With the bear?” Lone Wolf pointed at yet another one.

“Buy furniture.”

“So they all say to buy something?” Lone Wolf squinted at them. They all looked so different..

“Well, all the billboards do.”

“This reading thing can’t be so hard then.” Lone Wolf looked over at Azhar, who wore a fairly bemused expression.

“Do you have a question?”

“Not really, I think I’m starting to agree with Ghiyath that you’re not very much what we expected out of a...”

He looked around at the other people on the bus, most of whom were sleeping, including Ghiyath. “Well, a you know. You didn’t even balk once when we suggested we take the bus to Rutland since Ghiyath needs to rest.”

“I haven’t ridden a bus before.” He scrubbed an arm across the window as he accidentally fogged it again from pressing his nose against the glass.

“Exactly. I mean, it’s kind of high tech, for your sort at least. I thought you guys didn’t like the Weaver.”

“Yes. That is why I ride the bus and do many other things that we do not do.” Lone Wolf purposely blew on the window and then drew squiggles into it, apparently delighted by the novelty.

“I don’t understand.”

“The Weaver is stagnation and the death of possibility. If we never, ever, ever wear clothes or shoes, speak English, or ride the bus, that means the Weaver wins. We deny the possibility for it. I do not have to like riding the bus, or do it more than once, but it is a little thing I do to keep the Weaver from winning. It is slowly killing us, and perhaps by denying that we are anything more than what we are now, or could ever be more than that, we are helping it kill us.” Lone Wolf nodded. He had put great thought into this over the years.

Azhar was quiet for a few moments, thinking. Lone Wolf scrubbed at the window again, trying to wipe his nose prints off the glass. He watched the mile markers whiz by, wondering what these signs are trying to sell him. They had no pictures.

“You put a lot of thought into that didn’t you?” Lone Wolf gave Azhar a look. “Alright, that was a stupid statement. Of course you did. But, I mean, why? You are supposed to be the keeper of the ways, not the questioner.”

“What if the ways are wrong? It is difficult to understand sometimes, but the one who stands and watches, or prevents something from happening when it should, is just as evil as the one who does evil honestly. They are worse foes than those who do bad because they do not know they are good in their hearts, but evil in their actions and inaction.”

Lone Wolf looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Sometimes these thoughts come to me, and I feel I need to act on them, to do these things to try and judge for myself what is truly good, what is necessary, and what is just done because it has always been done so. They say these are the End Times, and if they are, than there is no way to deny the world has changed and we have not. Either we die or we change and, I think, sometimes, that my tribe prefers the easy way out, to die.”

Azhar shook his head. “It’s not just your tribe. We’re all dying because we will not change. My family is disgraced because we were...different, because we weren’t quite like what they expected.”

Lone Wolf smiled awkwardly, unused to the expression, and patted Azhar’s leg. “I know. None of it is ever easy. One day we will either be heroes and prophets, or we will be the last ones, the one who stood by and watched it all die. What kind of monster would you like to be?”

Azhar had no answer and so simply sat and watched Lone Wolf looking out the window, wondering what other terrible thoughts the Talon had.

* * *

“Alright, we need to find the Never Ending Fire Pack. They’re usually in this area.” Ghiyath indicated a sprawling area of warehouses, cheap industrial sites, and dilapidated multifamily housing. “We should be able to safely split up to find them.”

Lone Wolf looked at him. “Shouldn’t we howl to announce ourselves before we come into their territory?”

Ghiyath looked a little nervous. “Normally I would, but last time I was through, they asked me not to. The people here tend to call the cops to deal with the wild dog problem if they attract too much attention and some of the cops don’t exactly count as people anymore.”

“Ghiyath, maybe we shouldn’t split up then, if there are such nasty things around. I mean, you’re still hurt and...” Azhar seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine.” Ghiyath snapped, clearly not liking having his weakness pointed out.

“But you’re still tired and you’ve got the cub to carry, so even though it’ll take more time, we should stay together.” The Fang eyed the nearby buildings, clearly uneasy.

“It’s not heavy, not with the backpack for it to ride in.” 

“I don’t feel I should leave your side though.” Azhar fixes him with a significant look.

“Care to weigh in Lone Wolf?” Ghiyath chose to ignore Azhar’s gaze.

Lone Wolf squinted at him. “What? I hate these...the word that I am forgetting, the one for phrases that don’t mean what they say.”

“What’s your opinion?” Ghiyath repeated.

“It is safer to keep together. There are many twists and turns and there is a lot of background noise and foul smells. It would be very easy to creep up behind someone here and if there are dangerous creatures here, they will try to do so.”

* * *

It did indeed take almost an hour before they found the pack, who were happily hidden away in an alley with their “neverending fire”, a 55 gallon drum with a fire going in it. Only three were immediately in evidence, a mangy looking wolf that was loudly snoring with its feet stuck straight up in the air, a huge patchy furred wolf with his muzzle shoved into a bag of Nacho Snax and a thin young white man who was feeding the fire.

The snacking wolf looked up as they approached and grunted something at the man. “Hey, hey, if it ain’t our favorite home boy, and he’s brought his hood with him this time.” He smiled as he shoved another piece of wood into the fire, clearly not meaning it seriously.

Lone Wolf and Azhar both gave each other a confused look. The pale young man gestured around his head. “It’s a pun. He’s got the hooded sweatshirt and, y’know, black guys in the hood.” From the looks Azhar and Lone Wolf were giving him, they clearly didn’t. Ghiyath didn’t look real amused either.

“Who’re your buddies that they missed the reference?” He looked skeptical about them being ‘buddies’ at all.

“Is the boss lady around?” Ghiyath looked at the wolves to see if they might answer.

“You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.” The young man crossed his arms, apparently displeased at being ignored.

“It’s kind of important to know if she’s around before I introduce them.” Ghiyath was clearly looking around for the boss, expecting her to appear at any moment.

“Whatever. She’s off with the not-so-bossy lady patrolling, said she felt like something bad was coming, trouble with the Lords she thought. Y’know premonitions, tricky things.”

“Good. This is Azhar Serpent-Slayer, he’s a Silver Fang from Israel.” as he pointed at the Fang, who smiled shyly. “And this is Lone Wolf Circles. He’s from THAT sept.” Lone Wolf scowled at the comment.

The young man seemed taken aback for a moment. “No. You’re pulling my leg. He’s way too, y’know, good looking to be a Talon. Don’t joke with me like that, you know how she feels about them.”

Ghiyath shook his head. “Sorry, can’t say I’m lying. But let’s skip telling her.”

“I think she’s going to notice no matter how pretty he looks. Nice job cleaning him up by the way.”

“Thank you.” Lone Wolf smiled, showing off far too many teeth. “I would be happy to say the same about you but” he sniffed slightly “I can not. You should try this thing called washing.”

The young man scowled at him, clearly not amused. The large wolf definitely was, as he snorted hard enough to send the cellophane bag skittering across the ground. He wandered over to sniff at everyone, his head level with Lone Wolf’s elbow.

“I am Cheesy Puffs. That’s Haunts-the-Skyline. He thinks he’s clever, he hates meeting anyone who’s smarter. Especially anybody who’s supposed to be dumb.” He shoved his head into Lone Wolf’s side. “You are very strange for one of those.”

“I know, but that is not why we are here.” Lone Wolf leaned back into the wolf and ran his hands across the bottom of Cheesy Puffs jaw.

“I know too. Ghiyath, you didn’t introduce your other friend.” The wolf grinned up at Lone Wolf. “Haunts thinks thinking smarts are the only kind of smarts.”

“I do not, Puffs. Not my fault I can’t find Ghiyath’s invisible friend!”

“Not invisible, small.”

“Well it’s a baby actually.” Ghiyath wiggled out of the backpack he’d let the cub curl up in the bottom of. It made a slight disgruntled noise at being disturbed when Ghiyath scooped it up. Then it yawned broadly and wagged its little tail at the new people.

The wolf sniffed at it experimentally and then noisily slurped the pup. It squeaked and squirmed and wiggled happily. The young man looked it over without touching it. “Real cute. Looks just like you.”

“It’s not mine!” Ghiyath snapped and then immediately cooled down. “Well, it’s not MINE, but I am taking care of it, sort of. I found it. Some Spirals tried to sacrifice it and its mother for some ritual, but they didn’t quite kill it.” The pup nuzzled at his hand affectionately and then clamped sharp little teeth around his thumb. “Ow!”

“She is probably hungry.” Lone Wolf volunteered as he took the pup out of Ghiyath’s bleeding hands. He avoided letting her chew on his fingers. “It has been a few hours since she was fed, so she is getting cranky.”

Ghiyath shook his head. “It’s not like she’s had a chance to nurse since her mother was killed, and that’s at least a day, even more since they’d been out for awhile. She should be hungry.”

“I caught her a rabbit before we left.” Lone Wolf shifted the pup again as she tried to get a grip on his thumb.

“She can’t eat meat yet, can she?” Ghiyath looked at his thumb speculatively.

“Not by herself. I chewed the meat for her.”

“What?”

The big wolf shoved his head against Ghiyath. “If you don’t know what he meant, you don’t want to. I can go make something for her to eat, though, something squishy.”

“Perfect. That’s why we brought her to you guys, with the two lady’s we figured you would best know how to take care of her. I’m not really sure what a metis pup needs.” Lone Wolf was greatly amused with this. He deftly avoided letting the pup gnaw on his fingers again.

“Well Talon boy’s got a pretty good clue apparently. Why not leave it with him?” Haunts jerked a finger at Lone Wolf.

“I am called Lone Wolf Circles for a reason. I do not have a pack. If there are Spirals after the cub, I cannot defend her by myself. If I cannot keep her, caring for her doesn't matter. And she IS hungry. Would one of you two would like to do something about that or point out where I can go hunting?”

“No way, you’ve got the moves to keep your fingers. Puffs will make her something. Get her all big and strong real fast.” Lone Wolf looked at the huge bulky wolf. Some of the size apeared to be due to fat, but that was often hard to tell with someone so large.

“Perhaps not that big, that fast.”

The wolf growled slightly “Are you making fun of my size?”

“No, she is a cub. If she got too big too fast, she will be very, very clumsy, and that is a very bad thing with a metis pup. Wolves are awkward enough when they are growing quickly. Imagine a clumsy Crinos.” Lone Wolf’s good eye sparkled, recalling how gawky some of his sept mates had been as puppies.

“Yeah, I suppose that’d be kind of bad. I’ll go make food.” He trotted off to go rummage through a pile of stuff, shifting up to a huge lumbering Homid form to get out the things he needed to cook with.

“Do you think Fade will want keep the pup or just give advice?” Ghiyath went back to focusing on Haunts the Skyline, trying NOT to see exactly what Cheesy Puffs was stuffing into his pot.

The young man scratched his head. “I don’t really know. If you really have Spirals after you, maybe not. There’s lot of problems around here as is. We don’t need any of those added in. We’ll know when she gets back, assuming she doesn’t mystically sense there’s Talon here and fly off the handle. It’s not a Talon pup is it?”

“I don’t know what tribe it’s from.” Ghiyath looked frustrated.

Azhar finally joined the conversation. “If no one claims it, maybe it will end up being a Talon pup. The sept that helped defend it from the Spirals lost two warriors so will need to rebuild their strength. They might take the pup if it is healthy. It looks healthy.” He peered at the pup for a moment as she squirmed around trying to grab one of Lone Wolf’s fingers.

“Some problems are less obvious than others. Sometimes they take time to develop. But that’s not very important right now.” Lone Wolf looked Ghiyath in the eye for a moment. “I think the more important question is do you want to give the pup up?”

Ghiyath was silent for a moment as everyone looked at him expectantly. “I...I don’t know. I’ve only had her for about a day, but I was meant to find her, I think. An Uktena told me her name before I found her...”

“Which I don’t think you told us.” Azhar prompted.

"Paradise, her name is Paradise.” Ghiyath looked at her and his face softened slightly, looking at her trying to eat Lone Wolf’s thumb.

“Sounds like the name for a stripper.” Haunts-the-Skyline quipped.

Ghiyath scowled. Azhar and Lone Wolf eyed each other for a moment and spoke together. “What’s a stripper?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually one of the rare chapters I did a fair amount of revision on before posting it. There's a LOT of dialogue in this chapter and it wasn't always clear who was talking. The general gist of the dialogue is the same as when it was originally written, I've just changed the syntax and pacing in some spots to make it clearer which characters are talking.
> 
> At the time this was written (2000, early 2001) taking the bus was reasonable. Now... yeah, a twenty something black guy in a hoodie with a suspicious package, a weird vaguely menacing guy with one eye and no ID, and a teenage foreign guy with a vaguely middle eastern accent try to get on a bus... YEAH NO. even in the world of darkness, post 9/11 transit security would have stopped that. There's weirdoes on the bus, but not THAT weird.
> 
> Also, good god I had so many character that had to be crammed into this thing. You've now met one of the two Bone Gnawers and one of the two Glass Walkers.


	6. Garou are their own worst enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the characters will finally get some answers!
> 
> Or they may just have a fight with people who should be their allies.
> 
> They're Garou. #2 is more likely.

“I think they had the right idea, taking a bus.” Nuntisiwas cursed as he tripped over something else in the dark and went sprawling in the muck.

“You say something boss?” F’Foeg and Kabula seemd to have no problem whatsoever wriggling and squirming through the subterranean tunnels. The Spirals used them to travel whenever possible, but they were pitch black in most places and at this time of year, the upper ones were slick with half frozen mud.

“Did you fall down again?”

“I did not fall down.” He lied as he got back to his feet. “There was a large bug right here, but I think I lost it in some roots.”

“Was it one of the big black ones with the pinchers? They’ve got these chewy green insides that get stuck between your teeth...”

“Kabula, I don’t want to know anything more about your dietary habits, ever.”

“Ahhhhh...” from up ahead the Theurge made pleased noises, which meant no good for anyone else.

“What did you find?” F’Foeg called and there were vague noises as he went to catch up.

“Glowing fungus. Ah, the visions, the visions are most insightful...but the headache, and the throbbing, and the spots afterwards, those are most unpleasant.”

“Well don’t eat them ‘til later then. There should be a marker though, we must be near the turn into the storm drain system for Rutland then.” F’Foeg was at least being of use, for once. He seemed to know every tunnel on the East Coast.

“Wonderful. Now we can play in the sewers.” Nuntisiwas sighed to himself. _I hate this part of the job. Who needs a Gift to tell we’re coming? Anyone with a nose will know._

 

Nuntisiwas had found a large pile of dirt to roll in to try and absorb some of the liquid from his coat after they came above ground. Now he sat on top of a building grooming the dirt back out of his fur. He was a rusty brown rather than his usual black, which should confuse the ones they were tailing, should they spot him.  
Kabula and F’Foeg had gone hunting so he was at least spared their ceaseless chatter. Instead he had the Theurge keeping him company. Aside from occasionally muttering or humming, he was quiet enough to keep their position from being given away. Of course, considering the melodrama going on down below, nothing short of jumping up and down and screaming “Look at US!” would get their targets’ attention. At this rate, they’d kill each other without him having to raise a finger! Of course, it might be in his best interests to keep them alive a bit longer. It is difficult to question the dead.

Nuntisiwas eyed the Theurge sitting next to him for a moment. He was engaged in picking at some leprous scab on his arm. Sensing Nuntisiwas' eyes on him, he grinned, showing off a mouthful of daggers. “Do you wish something of me?” His voice oozed with insincere subservience.

“No, nothing right now, making contingency plans.” Indeed. How he HATED that creature. But he was useful to him for the moment, as insurance. If things went badly, he might need his skills to try and extract secrets from the dead. Unfortunately he could just as easily turn those skills upon others, if not kept properly occupied. _I have no desire to share any of my secrets with anyone, least of all this creature. I will not be the victim of my own tactics._ That last thought gave him pause. If he was not the victim, than who was he?

Nuntisiwas frantically went back to grooming, the mud on his fur suddenly seeming far colder and heavier than it had a few seconds before. The cubs would have to sort out their troubles on their own, he had enough problems to worry about.

 

“The whole lot of you, yer all nothing but a bunch of knuckle dragging, dog screwing, evolutionary dead ends that couldn’t recognize a good thing when it bit you on the nose. You’ve no right to come into town and...” 

Fade-to-Black paused for a moment in her tirade, sucking in a huge gasp of air so she could continue screaming. She gagged as she sucked in a long hank of her own dark hair, giving the object of her ire the first chance he had had to get a word in edgewise.

“And look around? It is hard to recognize a good thing if we have no right to come look at it.” Lone Wolf said it quite calmly, but putting a slight taunting edge on it.

“Don’t try and be reasonable! I know you’re just here as a spy! You and your cronnies are planning on coming in and raising hell, killing off our people, breaking anything you can get your hands on and dispelling the spirits we’ve worked so hard to get to aid us!” She’d been ranting nonstop for several minutes so the breaks as she tried to catch her breath were becoming longer and more frequent. The huge man behind her loosened his grip somewhat since it seemed like his pack leader did not have the energy anymore to launch an outright attack.

“We came to ask your help. I am travelling with these two, to make sure they were not harmed coming to see you. You would have found out from us if one of your pack members had let us speak instead of telling you first.” Lone Wolf kept his voice neutral, wishing he had his ears and tail to better indicate he did not want to antagonize her further.

The woman bristled again. “Oh so now we’re going to drag my boys into this too, try and pin it on them?”

“I am saying that one of them talks too much. If you are concerned about spies, you should have a word with him about it.” Lone Wolf’s tone was absolutely level and calm.

“Yeah, but you were intending on lying to me, you were conspiring with them to keep information from me!” Her volume was rising again.

“Because you would react unreasonably. That seems to be true.”

“I am not overreacting!” Fade screamed.

Ghiyath cut in on the conversation as he saw the Glass Walker start to strain against the arms restraining her again. “That should be your first clue that you are, that you have to say you’re not. You’re being unreasonable.”

“I am not unreasonable! You know I’ve got a beef with them! You should know better than to bring one of those THINGS into my city.” She glared at Lone Wolf, lips curled back in disgust.

Lone Wolf bristled. “I am not a THING. I do have a name.”

“What is it? Butt-sniffer? Nut-licker? Something properly earthy and primal?”

“It’s Lone Wolf Circles.” Now she was starting to irritate him, and his good eye blazed.

“Ooooooh. I’m all impressed.”

“I find your name uninspiring.”

“Ooooooh. Uninspiring. They teach you that one, sit up and speak big words? Ain’t you a good dog.”

“I learned this other trick too, its called ‘minding my manners’. I guess no one taught you that one. I am so sorry.” Lone Wolf had clearly mastered polite sarcasm at some point.

The woman bristled and the mountain behind her laughed. “I think he’s getting the better of you, Boss-lady.”

“You shut up, Poofs! I am not going to be outtalked by someone who can’t write his own name!”

“You could fool me, chief.” The mountain tightened his grip again as she tried to turn to smack him.

“My own pack’s turning against me now!” her voice cracked and deepened as she started to shift up to Crinos.

“We are not, we are looking out for you. Even good leaders need advice sometimes, right? I would be the first one to attack if I thought he was a threat, right? It’s my job to be in the front of the fight, to be your claws and fangs. I don’t like trying to be your brain too.” Cheesy Poofs rumbled.

“Well then stop trying to do my thinking for me!” her wolfish jaws snapped shut mere inches from his nose.

“I will when you decide you’re going to start thinking again.” Cheesy Poofs had also shifted up to Crinos in order to maintain his grip on her.

“Fine, fine, fine! I’ll talk to dog-boy, make you happy, and THEN rend him!”

“You promise?” Poofs looked highly skeptical.

“Fine, I PROMISE.” He let her go and she rounded on Lone Wolf, clearly ready to move onto the rending part as soon as she could. “Talk fast!”

Lone Wolf did not look like he was going to be hurried, angry Glass Walker bellowing at him or no. “I was simply escorting Ghiyath, Azhar and Paradise to you, to make sure they weren’t attacked by Black Spiral Dancers coming here.” 

The pack leader snarled heavily. “I see Ghiyath, you, and the foreign-boy. Where’s the fourth one? Better not be another one of YOU!”

“I don’t know if she is or not.” Lone Wolf watched her carefully, trying to look as neutral as possible

“How the hell do you not know!?” Fade lashed her tail, barely containing her fury. 

“Ma’am” Azhar cut in. “She’s just a pup, we don’t know who the parents are.”

“Did I ask you to interrupt!?”

“No, but I’d prefer you didn’t kill Lone Wolf for answering truthfully.” Azhar tried his best to not back down from her furious gaze.

“And what’s he to you?” She snarled, spittle dripping off her fangs. Azhar tried not to think about how big they were.

“Um, well, he kept me from having my head pounded in by their sept leader. I’d like to return the favor.” He wavered, he was not used to trying to stare anyone down. 

“You got any particular attachment to dog-boy, Ghiyath?” Fade turned her fevered eyes to the Strider.

“To him personally, no, but the Talons just got me out of really hot water, so I’d prefer you didn’t go killing him.” Ghiyath didn’t seem to want to try and stare her down either.

“Fine, fine, fine.” She poked one long claw at Lone Wolf. “You got a free pass this time dog-boy, but don’t let me catch you here again and I wouldn’t go wandering off by yourself either.”

“I would not want to trespass on your territory any more than I already have.” He carefully looked at her shoulder, not looking down and defeated, but also not staring at her challengeningly.

“Good.” She rounded on Ghiyath, the trinkets braided into her fur clattering slightly. She seemed to be completely ignoring Lone Wolf, though the irritated switching of her tail indicated he was not forgotten. “Now what you think yer doing, bringing me trouble and yanking my chain too? Piss me off and ask for help? You stupid?”

Ghiyath swallowed. “I was rather hoping you’d hold off on being pissed until after I got to talk to you.”

“Little late now! What you want? This about this pup that got mentioned?”

“That’s what I wanted your help about. It’s a metis pup. I don’t know how to take care of a metis pup and the Red Talons aren’t exactly friendly towards metis, so they weren’t any help, probably would have killed it if I’d stayed. So I brought it to ask you ladies for help.” Ghiyath decided to stare at Fade’s other shoulder. It had seemed to work for the Talon.

“And we’re supposed to know, why? Not like either of us have any pups or ever will.” Her tail switched back and worth in irritation.

“Yes, but I figured, well, you know, you were metis pups way back when so would kind of have some clue what needed to be done. That and you could beat the hell out of anything that was following me.” Ghiyath shrugged slightly, trying to be casual.

“Oh, so we’re supposed to be all girly and motherly and be butt kickers at the same time. So you’re saying we’re butch?” The Glass Walker flexed her claws.

“No, no, nothing like that, but you kind of have a bunch of big burly guys at your disposal. You can have Fine Whine or Cheesy Poofs wail on the Spirals while you and Sweet-Luna’s-Smile sit back and relax.”

“And act all girly.” Fade grinned, showing off all her sharp teeth.

“You just want a fight today don’t you?” Ghiyath was starting to sound testy as well.

“Hell, yes. Feels like there’s eyes on the back of my head all day. And Sweet-Luna and I split up to cover territory faster and she’s not back yet. Yeah, I’m spoiling for a fight. Get it at all settled and over and done with. Make my skin stop twitching. I got feelings, bad ones. Trouble’s coming. I think from the Lords, but no way to tell ‘til it comes.”

“If you’re that concerned about your packmate, you could just go look for her.”

“That’s why I have my boys, to run errands, while I deal with important crap like this. Haunts-the-Skyline is looking for her. I may as well look at this cub of yours while he’s out. Bet she looks just like you.”

“It’s not MINE!” Ghiyath’s eye swung up to glare at her.

“Now who’s overreacting?”

 

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Rutland, Nunitisiwas’ problems, namely Kabula and F’Foeg, were up to no good. Of course, it was rapidly becoming evident why Nuntisiwas was in charge. His henchmen were proving they should not be left to their own devices for too long. This was clearly too long.

“I get her brain!” F’Foeg growled. 

Kabula cuffed him. “You’re being too loud! She’s going to hear us!”

“No, NOW she’s heard us.” as their quarry shifted to Lupus and bolted away.

The two tripped all over each other as they raced after the other Garou. They could work perfectly well together, if they had a clear mission and someone to report to. Otherwise they both thought they should be in charge. 

Their mission in this case, was to find something to eat. A normally harmless enough objective, except that Spirals, vile creatures that they are, often have rather exotic and degenerate tastes. Add to this the fact that it was Sunday night in the depths of winter in Vermont, and there were not that many places open that served the sort of food that appealed to large degenerate carnivores, and certainly none that would not look askance at F’Foeg’s appearance. Perhaps Nuntisiwas should have found out more about Kabula’s dietary habits before letting the two loose on the city. Too late now.

It was a game with them now, racing through the maze of the city after the fleeing Garou, trying to shoulder past each other, to be the one to get the first taste of blood. F’foeg occasionally managed to pull ahead briefly as they skidded around corners, but Kabula was far too competitive to let him stay in front long.

They came flying out of the maze and raced along an open street after the long, clean limbed grey wolf they had set their sights on. It was unbearably beautiful and therefore that much more desirable, for they were sure her meat would be deliciously sweet. She could not pull far enough ahead to slip away and staying in the open was her only chance for now. If they corned her, they could make short work of her.

But wolves running openly through the streets of a city attract all sorts of unwanted attention, particularly a group such as this. Their quarry might have gone unremarked upon, but the two Spirals were anything but unobtrusive. F’foeg’s massively oversized jaws and sparsely furred head combined with battish ears and red eyes were impossible to miss, but Kabula was the true worry. She was covered in scars and the froth dripping from her jaws and the crazed look in her eyes led anyone seeing the chase to call the police and scream about the rabid giant coydogs running howling through the streets. Coydogs were not uncommon in the area, but if anyone had thought there were actual wolves, then there would have been outright panic. Rabid wolves are the things of nightmares. Rabid werewolves were fortunately well beyond the residents imagination.

None of the werewolves causing the problem initially noticed the vehicle coming up behind them, but the shot from behind caused F’foeg to dive off the road. He did not give up the chase, but he at least looked back to see the police cruiser bearing down on their quarry and the still oblivious Kabula.

“Look out!” he howled and lept back onto the roadbed, bowling Kabula out of the way of the car. She snapped and snarled at him for cutting her off, but the roar of the car quickly silenced her. The two bounded back to their feet and resumed their pursuit, now chasing the cruiser and the other Garou.

More shots rang out and the Garou in front howled as she was hit. She dove off the street and into the maze of alleys once more, the Spirals leaping after her again, gaining ground now that she was wounded.

The cruiser screeched to a halt and two people quickly piled out. One, the driver, was clearly a patrol officer. The other one could pass for a police officer, but only if not closely examined since there were no official insignia on his uniform. Not that anyone would want to get close enough to such a towering mound of muscle to check whether or not he was actually with the police.

“We got one wounded! Call in to the station and get some more backup and make sure they have that ‘special issue’ stuff Hans sent over.” the mountain of muscle rumbled. 

The patrol officer lunged back into the car to grab the mike and the car’s other occupant lunged at him, barking, frothing, and snapping ineffectively from behind the cage that separate the driver from the backseat. He ducked back out and clicked on the mike “We have a situation requiring Animal Control’s assistance. I’m on scene with our outside specialist and his...dog.” The beast in back threw itself against the side glass excitedly, sending spiderweb cracks through it.

The mountain opened the door and let the beast out, grabbing its leash as it lept past. “Just have the ones we picked for special training sent. And Hans if you can have the dispatcher reach him.”

The patrol man nodded and swallowed convulsively as he watched the huge man hold the snarling, lunging attack dog back. “Don’t worry boy, Skippy and me have plenty of experience getting rid of varmints like this. They won’t be trouble much longer, not once Skippy finds ‘em.”

The two headed off after the wounded animal, the dog now silent and straining at the end of the leash. The officer was glad they were leaving. He was pretty sure nothing would survive “Skippy” finding it. Thank God there was someone handling that beast, someone big enough that he looked like he could just crush the dog’s skull between his bare hands if it came to that.

 

 

Sweet-Luna’s-Smile ran as fast as she could with a silver bullet in her shoulder. Bad enough to be chased by two unfamiliar Black Spiral Dancers, but now she had the special hunters from the police department after her. Clearly someone at the department had gone bad. Not bad in the usual sense, but bad as in the Wyrm-tainted sense. Killing the police might just attract more attention, but letting them have the bullet riddled corpse of a Crinos Garou would be even worse!

She raised her muzzle and called for her pack, hoping she was close enough to their territory that one of them would hear them.

Behind her, the two Spirals let loose with hyenalike cackles and wailing, whooping howls to drown her out.

 

Fade-to-Black paused in her examination of Paradise as she heard the plaintive howl of her missing packmate. It was promptly drowned out by the wails of approaching Black Spirals.  
“Crap.”

 

“CRAP.” On top of the building, Nuntisiwas smacked himself in the forehead as he heard the wails of his hunting henchmen. “Give them a simple task, and they screw even that up. Have they never heard of stealth?” He shifted to Crinos and stood up, ready for the fight he knew was coming.

 

“CRAP!” as Ghiyath pulled Dhul Fiqar out of its sheath. “Up on the building! They’re behind us too!”

“!@#$%^&*!!!” Lone Wolf looked over at Azhar, not quite sure what the Theurge had said. From the expression he could guess it had much the same meaning as the previous utterances, just in a different, unfamiliar language.

“What’s the matter? or what’s worse?” Lone Wolf kicked off his shoes and started to shift up to Crinos. 

Azhar pointed up at the top of the building. “That’s the guy.”

“What guy?”

“The one I wanted to run with!”

“Oh.” Lone Wolf looked perplexed for a moment. “It seems like the right word....” He looked up at Nuntisiwas’ dark, looming form. It most certainly was the right word. “Crap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY CHARACTERS HAD TO BE MENTIONED. it was part of requirement for the whole serial thing. GOTTA MENTION 'EM ALL.
> 
> wanna see what they look like? get the four New England block sets here:  
> http://www.werewolfcardgame.com/index.php/cards/fan-card-releases


	7. Thee Way Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big giant fight between three different groups! The bad guy resists the urge to monologue, except when its to his advantage to keep the heroes talking. 
> 
> ...meanwhile in New York state, King Albrecht eats breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for a bloody, gorey fight scene! and cannibalism.

Kabula and F’Foeg plowed after Sweet-Luna’s-Smile, oblivious to the fact they were about to run into a pack of very angry Garou. Kabula lunged forward, teeth sinking into Sweet-Luna’s hip. F’Foeg reverted to his native Crinos form now that he did not need the speed. He slammed toxin dripping claws into the hapless Child of Gaia, catching them just beneath her ribs. The force of the blow sent Sweet-Luna flying, a long strip of fur and flesh torn off in Kabula’s mouth. The Ahroun snapped up the bloody mess and quickly swallowed the chunk, sure the now crippled Garou would be unable to escape.

Sweet-Luna tried to drag herself further from the two Spirals, whimpering and crying piteously. Kabula trotted up behind the injured Garou and tore another bloody hunk off, bolting it down.

“Did you hear some...” F’Foeg was cut off mid-thought as a furious Bone Gnawer came charging around the corner of a warehouse and slammed him into a pile of trash cans.

Kabula had time to shift up to Crinos before another of the Neverending Fire pack came bounding to their packmate’s aid. The mountain of a Garou took one look at the blood on Kabula’s muzzle and heedlessly launched himself at her with a roar.

Both pairs of battling Garou went at each other tooth and claw, the Spirals desperately fighting for their lives. The two Bone Gnawers were totally committed to scattering little bits of the Spirals all over Rutland as payback for what they had done to their packmate. Sweet-Luna continued to drag herself away from the conflict as best she could.

F’Foeg and Fine Whine abruptly found themselves breaking apart and scrambling for cover as silver bullets slammed indiscriminately into the both of them. The two sat nose to nose for a moment as they had both chosen the same dumpster to dive behind. Hatred flashed between the two, but also a certain unwillingness to die at the hands of an unknown attacker. The two wordlessly bolted out from behind the dumpster and away from the unseen gunman. Their fight would have to be concluded later.

Meanwhile, Cheesy Poofs found himself similarly attacked, but by a hell beast instead of gunfire. Kabula was using the assault to her full advantage and was frantically tearing away at the Bone Gnawer’s legs, trying to topple him into the jaws of this new attacker.

The Gnawer frantically tried to shake off the hell hound hanging from his arm to no avail. There was no breaking the hold with its jaws or with the short rubbery tentacles that had crawled out of its flesh like blind worms. He ceased shaking the beast and brought his fist crashing down in the middle of its broad skull in a stunning strike. The thick bone absorbed most of the shock but the beast’s jaws loosened and it slid from his arm. He stooped and grabbed the angry Spiral by the throat and tossed her into the hell hound. Then he fell to the ground with a bullet wound in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nuntisiwas gathered himself together, calling on all the powers at his disposal to enhance the force of his presence.

He rose to his full Crinos height and stared down at the Garou below haughtily. With his dark fur and only the scant light of the moon, it seemed the night itself had grown burning eyes. He directed that stare downward, but even the skulking Theurge by his side felt the need to edge away from him.

“I’ve been watching you. I want the one who carries the pup, the Silent Strider, and the blade he carries. Give me these and there will be no need for a fight.” He smiled beneficently, as if he expected them to do as asked. He knew full well that they would do no such thing.

“Rot in hell!” Fade-to-Black used her free hand to flip him off. Her other hand was busy squashing Paradise to her chest.

“Surely you can be reasonable. I simply wish to... talk with him and take back what is rightfully mine.”

“Like hell you do! We don’t bargain with Black Spirals!” Ghiyath pointed the klaive threateningly at Nuntisiwas.

“I don’t see you leaping up here to attack me.” Nuntisiwas grinned in his most infuriating manner.

“You’re just a distraction! Whine, Poofs, go help Sweet-Luna, we’ll make sure these two don’t come from behind!” Fade-to-Black pointed down the alley from which Sweet-Luna’s pitiful cries came and the two Bone Gnawers leapt to do as she commanded.

Lone Wolf looks up at the Spiral. Something was odd about him. He could see what the young Fang had meant. There was just... something about him. “You said they were rightfully yours. She is your daughter then?”

Nuntisiwas seemed uncertain for a brief instant. “I did not say that. But she should rightfully be mine, as should that blade your friend is waving about.”

“We’re not giving either to you without a fight! We outnumber you!” Azhar shouted up at him, seeming to have shaken off the reverie he had fallen into.

“Yes, but I have the tactical advantage and the informational one as well.” Nuntisiwas resisted the urge to twirl his mustache. He did not even have one in Crinos, but the fact that he had to stop himself mentally from making the gesture said he had been doing it far too much recently.

“What do you mean?” Azhar seemed uncertain again.

“I have the high ground and have been sitting here quite long enough to know that you are not a pack and that Fade-to-Black has most unwisely split up her forces. You will fight as an unruly mob and my forces have flanked you. I also know you don’t have any ranged weapons, so you must come fight me on my terms, should you really wish to be so foolish. It would be so much easier if you simply did as I asked.” Nuntisiwas made it seem like it really was a reasonable decision.

“But there are only two of your people flanking us.” Lone Wolf chipped in. “And they’re fighting three of the Neverending Fire pack.”

“Your tongue is as poisonously sweet as any Shadow Lord’s, but we can outwait you, if Lone Wolf is correct. We really only need one person here to watch you. If you had ranged weapons youself, you would have used them by now.” Azhar shook a fist at him to punctuate his speech.

“Very clever, you have a sweet tongue too, my boy, but as you know, Shadow Lords and Silver Fangs are natural enemies, despite the compliment. I shall have to hurt you then, as a matter of principle.” Nuntisiwas grinned, showing off every one of his fangs, which seemed unnaturally white against his dark pelt.

Azhar pulled himself up bravely, eerie silvery flame dancing across his fur as he steeled himself to face the Spiral alone. “Then come get me. The rest of you, go help the others and get rid of his lackeys. I’ll let you know if he’s all talk or actually comes down.”

“I will stay too, and hold the pup. It will only hinder Fade and she should be with her pack.” Lone Wolf relieved Fade-to-Black of the cub and she and Ghiyath went bounding off to help the rest of the Neverending Fire pack.

“Well are you coming down!?” Azhar shook a fist at Nuntisiwas.

“Why should I, when I can hold you both here without risking my skin in the slightest?” He grinned evilly.

“Are you a coward then, not even strong enough to to back up your threat!?” Azhar shook his fist again, but it did not seem to have any effect other than making him feel better.

“I was going to avoid hurting you, little one, since I owe you for aiding me against Allonzo, but if you insist on making it a matter of pride...” Nuntisiwas had a slight wheedling tone to his voice.

“Who’s Allonzo?” Azhar’s ears twitched uncertainly for a moment before laying back angrily again.

“The beast you gutted for me. It was a Shadow Lord, once, but now, well, even the Black Spirals will have no dealings with monsters such as that.” Nuntisiwas could see the young Fang’s resolve waver as he’d clearly intrigued the boy.

“What kind of monster is too bad for even Spirals to deal with?” Azhar’s ears were creeping forward curiously.

“Come up here and I can tell you. No sense shouting such secrets from the rooftops.” Azhar wavered and took a few hesistant steps towards the nearby fire escape that would let him climb to the roof.

“Azhar! Don’t listen to him! If he wants to tell you, he can do so just as well from up there!” The Fang looked over at Lone Wolf.

“You’re right, of course. I don’t need to hear any more of your lies!” He shook his fist at Nuntisiwas again.

“Oh, but I would never lie to you. The truth is a much more effective weapon.” Nuntisiwas smiled, but it did not touch his eyes at all.

“Then what’s the truth here?”

“You and you little friends are a monkeywrench in my plans.”

“What are your plans?”

“Ah yes, this is where I am supposed to cackle evilly, twirl my mustache, and tell you all my secrets plans, so you, the brave hero, can thwart them, yes?” Nuntisiwas laughed dramatically. He was insane, it was expected he cackle evilly.

Azhar looked down and mumbled sheepishly. “It would be kind of nice.”

“That’s the way the story should go, isn’t it? But what if I tell you and you find that it would be in your best interests not to interfere, or worse still, to help me?” He twitched his tail happily, grinning like the Chesire Cat. If he could pique their curiosity he would have them.

“You’re a Black Spiral! There’s no way we would help you! Ever!” Lone Wolf broke in as Azhar looked uncertain.

“Maybe he’s right Lone Wolf. That thing...” he wiped a paw across his fur nervously. “Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty. It’s wrong somehow. Worse than him. What if he is right?”

“Come up and talk with me and find out, shining one. Perhaps you are not meant to be a hero out of the tales of old. These are dark times, perhaps the heros must be equally dark, in their own way. Just because we take different paths does not mean we don’t have the same destination in the end.” Nuntisiwas stopped grinning, speaking now in a deadly serious tone.

“NO! I can’t believe that! It’s all a trick!” Azhar roared, but his ears twitched uncertainly.

“And what does your heart say, little one?” Nuntiwas almost whispered, as if speaking only to Azhar.

Azhar paused, but no one ever heard his answer as the combatants came tearing around the corner, drowning him out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fade-to-Black and Ghiyath barreled around the corner, to find Sweet-Luna trying to drag herself behind some barrels and out of the line of fire. Fade dragged her behind the scant cover. “Crap. Where’s the Theurge when you need him? Look her over and set and hold things as best you can.”

“But why? She’ll heal just fine.” Ghiyath looked mightily confused

“No she won’t! You’ve never been here for the bad fighting. Yeah, she’ll heal, too fast!" Fade pointed at Sweet Luna's Smile's wounds "Look, here, its already starting to heal together, but its not doing it right. It’ll cripple her if we don’t cut them back open now.”

Sweet-Luna stirred slightly. “Shoulder. Silver bullet.”

“Awh, crap, I can’t even find the hole anymore.” Fade -to-Black pulled out a knife and frantically looked over Sweet-Luna’s fur looking for a hole in the bloodstain. Failing to find one, she cut a new hole and dug about until she could find the slug.

“But if it’s silver, how can it heal so fast...” Ghiyath stared down at the tear on Sweet Luna’s hip that he was attempting to hold closed. “We heal fast, but not this fast!”

“Sweet-Luna does, but if we don’t hold things in the right place, we have to cut all the scar tissue out again latter and hope it’ll heal right the second time. She’s luckier than some metis, but still, it’s not all good.” Fade peered over one of the barrels and a bullet whined overhead.

“Great, there’s two engaged with my boys now and I can hear three more coming! You stay here and try to get her up. I’ll deal with the gunman.” As Fade leapt out from behind the barrels, F’Foeg and Fine Whine bolted past their position. Another shot went off and Fade leapt towards the gunman, trying to get to him before he could chamber another round.

The Glass Walker howled and there was a terrible shearing noise followed by a curse from the gunman as his weapon literally tore itself apart and the metal pieces on his uniform splintered and drove themselves into his flesh.

“Skippy! Sic the bitch!” The huge man seemed to grow even bigger and more muscular as he rolled up a sleeve, flung the ruined gun aside and brought a massive fist crashing into Fade’s snarling muzzle. The attack dog looked briefly confused as to who its handler wanted it to go after, but finally abandoned Kabula in favor of attacking Fade-to-Black.

Kabula took the opportunity to run, darting past Ghiyath. The Strider flicked his blade out and opened a long cut along the Spiral’s side as she flew past. Sweet-Luna meanwhile tried to struggle back to her feet and go to the aid of her pack leader, who was clearly outmatched by the hell hound and his handler.

Ghiyath tugged at her arm. “No, come on, she’s only trying to hold them back while you get up. I’ll get Cheesy Poofs, you go that way, Azhar can heal you so you can get back in the fight.” Sweet Luna nodded and limped around the corner.

Ghiyath leapt out and slapped at Cheesy Poof’s muzzle, trying to bring the huge wolf around. It was a bad sign that he had reverted to his native form. “C’mon, c’mon! Get up!” The wolf didn’t respond, so Ghiyath reluctantly sheathed his blade and hoisted the massive wolf across his shoulders. And none too soon as when he stood, he could see figures down the alley running towards them, pulling weapons.

“Fade! I’ve got him, we need to retreat!”

“Trying to!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ghiyath ran back around the corner and into absolute chaos. Azhar and Sweet-Luna were trying to fend off Kabula and the vile little Theurge. F’Foeg and Fine Whine were back at it tooth and claw, and Nuntisiwas and Lone Wolf were warily circling each other, not quite having engaged just yet. Odd considering that Nuntisiwas appeared quite capable of overpowering the Red Talon, especially with one of Lone Wolf’s paws tied up in holding onto Paradise.

“More guys with guns coming in less than a minute! And they aren’t on anybody’s side! Everybody run!”

No one seemed to heed the Silent Strider initially until Nuntisiwas bellowed. “Fall back!” The other Spirals fell back reluctantly, and F’Foeg seemed to be having no success getting himself free of Fine Whine’s furious assault until the Theurge sank her foul teeth into the unfortunate Bone Gnawer’s leg. Fine Whine screeched and hopped about as greenish ichor oozed out of the wound.

The Spirals backed up quickly, but looked like they were ready to press their advantage as soon as they knew whether Ghiyath had spoken accurately.

Azhar quickly laid hands on Sweet-Luna, spirit magics weaving back together her errant flesh the way it should be. Ghiyath brought the injured Bone Gnawer over to the Theurge as well.

“Boss, let’s get them before the guys with guns show up, before they get healed.” F’Foeg grinned eagerly at the wounded Bone Gnawer, easy prey now that he was down a limb.

“Have you seen these men with guns?” Nuntisiwas risked looking at him quickly.

“Yeah, they’ve got silver...”

“Then we’re going. Now. This is not a fight we need to win that badly.”

“But we’ve got ‘em on the ropes!”

Fade-to-Black came barreling around the corner, hellhound hot on her tail and a hail of gunfire soon following. “Incoming! It’s the cops! And they ain’t scared!”

“We are all on the ropes in this case. We’re going!” And abruptly the Spirals were gone, retreating to the spirit world.

“I never though I’d say this, but do like the Spirals!” The rest of the Garou gathered their wits together and leapt for the spirit world as well, leaving Skippy, his handler Mugshot, Hans and his ‘new recruits’ from the Rutland police force to wonder where the Garou had all gotten to.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albrecht stiffled a yawn and took a sip of coffee. He eyed his Kinfolk ‘secretary’. Bruce got huffy if anyone called him a secretary though. Secretaries made coffee, typed, and looked pretty. He was a ‘personal assistant’ who occasionally deigned to make coffee. He was a professional. Still, the whole idea that he needed a secretary or personal assistant or professional scheduler of any sort rather disturbed him. You would think being King would be a lot less complicated. “You did get me up this early for a meeting, right?”

Bruce gave him The Look. The ‘don’t make me prove my skills’ look. “I wouldn’t disturb you this early otherwise. You were supposed to meet with the foreign boy, Azhar Serpent-Slayer...”

“The Arab one, with the eyes the size of saucers?”

“They only appear to be that big when you’re around. And he’s an Israeli, sir.

“He doesn’t look Jewish.”

“By default I don’t think any Garou can be Jewish, or Christian or Muslim really." Bruce gave him another look, like he was being exceptionally slow this morning.

“So he’s non-Jewish Israeli Silver Fang. Could he be any more contrary? Guess it makes sense he’s late then.”

“Well, he’s not really late, sir...”

“He’s not here and I’ve finished breakfast. I believe the idea was I’d have breakfast with him so he wouldn’t look so much like a scared rabbit. Look, the legendary hero also eats breakfast like normal people." Albrecht waved at now empty plate. "But the kid’s not here.”

“I sent people to look for him and no one seems to have seen him for at least a day." 

“It’s cold enough that I’d like to still be in bed. Maybe he’s huddled up trying to keep warm.”

“First place they looked, sir.”

“Sure he’s not sharing someone else’s bed?”

“Sir! I’m sure none of the other Kinfolk would be...” 

“Attracted to a polite and exotic foreign princeling and more importantly, someone who’s not their cousin? No, never happens.” Albrecht took another swig of his coffee. “When we manage to breed the attraction out of young people is when we know’ve thinned the gene pool too much.” He banged the cup on the table. “I said ‘young people’ When the hell did they get to be young people?”

“I have no idea, sir. You’re still young people so far as I’m concerned.” Bruce was easily two decades older than Albrecht. Garou usually did not live to a ripe old age.

“I don’t feel like one at this hour. But you said no one’s seen him for at least a day?” Albrecht rubbed at his eyes.

“No sir. Not even the kitchen staff.”

“Can’t keep a young man from food either.”

“Yes sir, and none of the, ahem, likely suspects to be, ahem, keeping him warm so to speak have seen him either, much to their disappointment.”

Maybe Bruce qualified as a butler. He was certainly proper enough. No, butlers were not usually skilled in the art of fending off persistent Garou. Bruce would also give him The Look if he ever called him a butler. Personal assistant. Right. “So he’s just up and vanished”

“Apparently, sir. The last anyone remembers seeing of him was when he said he was going for a walk. In the snow.”

“Oh. So you have a bunch of Kinfolk running around trying to find a large white wolf lost in the snow.” Albrecht found the entire mental image terribly amusing.

“They ARE trying very hard and I’m sure if he’s lost, he’s doing his best to find his way back.” Bruce apparently did not find it amusing at all.

“Well either he has a terrible sense of direction, or something’s held him up, and anything that can hold up a Garou can certainly take out Kinfolk. I should probably take a look.” Albrecht yawned again, involuntarily.

“No, really, sir, don’t disrupt your schedule over this, you can send one of the other court hangers on to look. He’s probably been held up by something trivial. All these young heroes seem determined to go haring off at the first sign of adventure. There’s no sense disrupting the whole court because you’ve decided to act like an addled pup and go running off looking for an adventure.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll avoid sending everyone into a panic. For now. Send one of the young pain in the ass loudmouths out to look for him. But if I don’t see him back here in a week, I’m going to go look for the puppy myself. I don’t want to tell his sept we lost him. Killed in battle they might understand, misplaced will cause a diplomatic incident.” Albrecht stiffled another yawn and investigated the contents of coffee pot. Empty, damn.

“I didn’t think he was that important, sir.”

“Every Garou is now, famous or not. The last lost pup I dealt with turned out to be pretty important. Would I be sitting here now if I hadn’t involved myself with such an ‘unimportant’ kid?”

“Point taken sir. I’ll send Matfei Past-Glory to look for him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh right, Azhar originally was visiting North Country. somebody finally noticed he's missing!
> 
> This was a rare chapter where White Wolf requested a change. I forgot who exactly originally was managing Albrecht's morning routine, but I think it was a low ranked Silver Fang that appeared in Silver Crown. anyway, at least in White Wolf canon, he didn't fit as being around North Country Protectorate at appropriate time period.
> 
> So the end scene with Albrecht was rewritten to use Bruce instead, though the dialog has only minor changes.


	8. The Uktena Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Trinity are back and continuing their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for possession and really bad things happening to innocents.
> 
> The dog lives though.
> 
> Poor, poor dog.

“What’s a matter girl?” Howard reached down to pat his growling guide dog. “There somebody you don’t like coming?” He turned his head back and forth trying to pick up any approaching footfalls, cursing the sound of the nearby rushing water. Even in winter, he could hear it running beneath the ice. But it was the only time he could come to Niagara Falls, when they were partially frozen and there were not so many tourists. 

The seeing eye dog growled again and tugged him along, trying to get him to break into a trot. “Slow down! I can’t go that fast, not with the ice!” The dog slowed down to its normally steady pace, whining piteously.

“Shh, it’s okay. Nobody’d hurt a blind man. The world’s not that full of monsters...”

Howard collapsed as his dog howled in abject terror.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How very, very wrong.” Gorgol forced the blind man’s hand up to remove the dark glasses from his new host’s sightless eyes. It would take some getting used to, having a physical body. The darkness was utterly unacceptable. A slight exertion of power and he burnt his host’s sightless orbs clean out their sockets, leaving empy holes filled with a sickly reddish glow.

“Much better.” He put the dark glasses back over the empty eyes and looked down at the frothing, twitching golden retriever. From the looks of it, Raza would be at this awhile. Gorgol proceeded to pace, getting the feel of the new body. It really could use some improvements... however, that would ruin the disguise. The eyes were concealable. It was expected. Humans did not like to see others’ weakness. It made them feel their own too keenly.

The guide dog let out one more agonized yelp and then got to its feet, head swinging back and forth snakelike. Gorgol put his host’s hand on the dog’s harness and let it settle into the position it ‘naturally’ wanted to assume.

“You need to work on that. I had less trouble taking over this body than you did an unthinking animal.” The dog snarled at him. “Hush. You will blow our cover. Put your other skills to use. They will think nothing of letting us walk through their defenses, but we still need to find the correct one. Put that nose to work.”

The retriever snarled once more and put its head down, trying to pick up the trail of the the local Garou. For all appearances it simply seemed that a blind man was out walking with his guide dog, who was being unusually attentive today. Probably the ice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“...and then she said you’d said...” Duncan MacIvor looked down at the wolf by his side as it made a disgusted noise.

“Don’t waste my time with monkey-babble! Make yer case or I’ll box yer ears!” Silvertongue snapped at Duncan as she grew tired of hearing him ramble.

“You can’t even reach my ears.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Children, walk towards the light, isn’t that what Clubfoot wanted in the first place? You two fighting.” Horse Feathers appeared like magic between the two hot tempered Fianna. Both startled. They thought they had successfully slipped off to walk by themselves.

“And since when do you play peace maker? Shouldn’t you be playing rough and ready with us?” Duncan flicked Horse Feathers’ pale ear with one finger, covering his nervousness with harmless pranks.

“I do a little of everything. I have learned great patience and wisdom tending the spirits...”

“You mean staring at a point in space until your fur turned white.” Silvertongue nipped Horse Feathers’ other ear and swished her own reddish tail about playfully, her bad mood gone.

“That too. But Clubfoot is simply causing trouble, playing the old ‘he said, she said’ game. She is simply trying to keep you two apart so the Fianna cannot present a unified front at council.”

“We’re too fractious to prevent a unified front even without Clubfoot meddling. I don’t see why she even thinks we should have anything to do with the leadership at the caern. Couldn’t she go bother the other Ahrouns, or maybe pester the Philodox? Not as if the Ragabash have a real voice on the council.” The two Lupus had fallen to tusseling playfully while Duncan spoke, leaving the poor Homid out of the pile of tangled limbs and snapping teeth. Horse Feathers disengaged and grew serious. 

“Perhaps you do not have a great voice directly, but you are both respected in your own way.”

“Ha!” Silvertongue barked and snapped at a snowflake blowing in the breeze. “No one respects a Ragabash. It is not in our nature.”

“Well, Duncan, they admire his fighting skills, especially considering he is a Ragabash. His deeds thus seem greater because he is not expected to be a great warrior. And you, oh sly one...” Horse Feathers bared her fangs at Silvertongue who was creeping around behind her. “Do not even think of pulling my tail. When you are not romping about like a puppy, you have put that sweet voice and sharp tongue to good, and, at times, ill use. They do not expect guile from one wolf born, and thus, you are respected in your own way, if not openly acknowledged. And so if Clubfoot drives a wedge between you two and you have a very public feud, many of the Fianna on the council will be torn as to who to support.”

“Not that you have any say on the council either.” Duncan rubbed his hands together to warm them.

Horse Feathers grinned in a most unwolfish manner. “Oh no, of course not, no one ever listens to the evil old Uktena witch.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raza strained in the confining harness, eager to bound forward as the scent grew fresher. Gorgol tugged sharply on the leash. “Slow down. If the scent is fresh, they are bound to be watching. Keep going at a slow, steady pace, like we are out for a normal walk and got lost. The farther we can get before we are discovered, the better. Otherwise this was an utterly pointless exercise.”

Raza growled in a most un-golden retriever like fashion, but slowed back to a steady walk. Gorgol was right, stealth was required for this mission, but still, the pace grated on her nerves. She was a hunter and should be tracking this witch in full cry before a full pack of scrags, all eager for the kill and the taste of fresh meat between their wicked fangs. Thinking about the carnage to come made Raza drool, tongue lolling and eyes glazed in a much more typical expression for a dog.

She tracked across the cold frozen ground, the blowing snow no obstacle to supernatural senses. They were off the neatly manicured and well maintained tourist paths now. Gorgol occasionally stumbled over some hidden obstacle in the snow, but Raza’s four sure feet kept her from any trouble. Gorgol pulled at the harness every now and then, pulling her up short. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Raza would start up again, as if determined to take him to the appropriate destination. Watchers would assume they had simply missed a turn somewhere and the dog was now valiantly trying to get her master back home by as straight a route as possible. Hopefully they would not interfere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What happens when you get three nervous Ragabash together in the middle of the winter and no one’s watching? A snowball fight is pretty well inevitable. It is not because Ragabash are inherently more playful or frivolous than other auspices, but because they are, in their own way, more honest... at least with themselves. Political tensions at the caern had them on edge and a little stress relief was in order.

Silvertongue yelped as a snowball pegged her between the eyes. “No fair! That one had a rock in it Duncan!”

“Sorry. I think it had some leaves too. Didn’t mean to get other crud in there too. Free shot.” The Fianna posed dramatically to take the incoming snowball like a real man. He got pelted with a half dozen in short order. 

“You didn’t say who got the free shot. How unwise.” Horse Feathers juggled a few more snowballs, threatening to unleash them in another devastating barrage.

“Show off.” Duncan tried to brush the snow off himself without being hit with another one while he was distracted.

Silvertongue dodged a snowball from Horse Feathers, who was letting Duncan clean himself off, for the moment. “I think we should gang up on her. Not only can she throw faster than us, she blends in too!”

“Ah yes, I see the Fianna coalition has formed up to overthrow the evil Uktena tyrants.” Horse Feathers slung another snowball at Silvertongue. Despite the teasing, it was an all too accurate assessment of the current political situation. The Uktena owed the Fianna for rescuing the Caern of White Water from total destruction many years back, but certain parties wished to drive all the European tribes out of the caern, off the continent if possible. Clubfoot Razorneck was the most vocal about it, but far too many quietly sympathized.

“You’re plural?” Duncan quipped while forming a new pile of snowballs...which Silvertongue was dutifully stealing for her own use.

“Do the voices in my head count for that?” Horse Feather whirled about, kicking snow at the two Fianna.

“What do your voices tell you?” Duncan wiped yet more snow off himself. The ladies seemed to be getting the best of him.

“That I should stop juggling and make some more snowballs before I get flanked and turned into a snow-werewolf.”

Silvertongue brushed Duncan off, apparently unwilling to let her tribemate be turned into a snow sculpture. “Do Crinos shaped snow sculptures count as a breach of the Veil?” 

“It depends on whether they incite Delirium or not.”

“Ah yes, the spirits have granted me the power to use snow to warp the minds of mere men...” Horse Feathers dramatically draped a hand across her forehead, as if getting a vision now.

“The spirits seem to grant you a lot of things. Think you can get ‘em to give you some hot cider and cookies? Those would be right nice about now.”

“The spirits do not bake cookies.” Horse Feathers scowled at Silvertongue. Duncan pelted her with a snowball.

‘They don’t give warnings as to incoming projectiles either.”

Horse Feathers shook the snow off her fur. “At least not for non-lethal ones. I think Old Man Coyote would approve of a snowball in the snout of anyone who takes life too seriously.”

“Awww, it’s not like Coyote’s nothing but fun and games.” Silvertongue danced away.

“Exactly. Why not conceal a a poisoned dart or a shard of silver in something so harmless looking? Teaches people that appearances are deceiving.”

“I ain’t having anymore snowball fights with you ever! Dark devious, evil Uktena, indeed! Spoiling all our fun and games.”

Horse Feathers lobbed another snowball at Silvertongue. “And sometimes a snowball is just a snowball.”

“Hey, you two nuts want to stop yapping for a minute? I think someone’s coming.” Horse Feathers and Silvertongue immediately fell silent and went back to their native wolf forms. Horse Feathers blended in perfectly with the snow. Silvertongue slunk into some low lying evergreens with Duncan.

They lay still and silent for a few moments until they heard the panting of another canine and the crunch of footfalls in the snow. “Oh Duncan, it’s just one of the caern patrols.” Silvertongue whined.

“Shhhhhh... something seems wrong. Wait a few more moments.” They waited tensely until a man and dog came into sight. The golden retriever pulled at the service harness, obviously very eager to get somewhere. The man walked on, utterly confident.

“Poor fellow, must have gone off the tourist path. I should put him back on the trail before he runs into the bawn guardians.” Horse Feathers snapped at Duncan’s arm before the Fianna stepped out of cover.

“Wait. Something is wrong. Something smells odd about this.” The three Garou froze as the man and dog turned towards them. The golden retriever snarled and pointed with a paw.

“Something is VERY wrong.”

“Is that the best you can do?” the man called out. “That there is something wrong? How...pathetic. I was expecting much more.”

Silvertongue bristled, but her tail was creeping down between her legs in nervousness. “It shouldn’t be able to understand us.”

“But I can see and understand you little puppy. But you do not concern me. We want the Uktena.”

Horse Feathers slunk forward and snarled. “And what would you want with me?”

“To extract some information.” The predatory leer from the dog said that they wanted far more than that. They wanted to extract it, literally, the hardest and most painful way possible.

“I do not think so. I will tell you nothing.” Horse Feathers shifted to Hispo, readying herself against the invaders.

“You will tell us everything, in time.”

Duncan stepped out of cover, having bulked up to Crinos. He stood to one side of Horse Feathers. “But we are three and you only two. You’ve no grounds to threaten.”

“You only see two.”

Silvertongue shifted up to Crinos as well and took up a position to the other side of Horse Feathers. “And you are unarmed.” She tried to sound confident, but the fact that the man and the dog were not fleeing at the sheer sight of two Crinos Garou was disconcerting. Either they were mad, or utterly confident in their ability to win.

“That does not matter.”

“It is right. Attacking will merely kill the host, not the evil that moves its limbs.” Horse Feathers watched them carefully.

“You are correct. You need only answer a few question and we will leave.” The smile was insincere. It had no intentions of doing so, but still, there was a slight chance it might do as it said. Some spirits were bound to their words once given. Hearing the questions could not hurt.

“What are your question then, beast?” Horse Feathers was deadly calm and still. She had played word games with banes for years, tending the awful spirits the Uktena kept bound in spiritual prisons. It had turned her fur white before her time, but taught her many tricks. She could trade words with it without fear, perhaps tricking it into revealing some weakness.

“A young man came here perhaps ten days ago, and spoke to you. He left and traveled to the south. He was just in time to interfere with the plans of certain parties, apparently because you had told him where to find this. How did you discover these secret plans?”

The Uktena considered for a moment. “He is a Silent Strider, they have a natural talent for going where they are needed.”

“It would have been better if he had not interfered. Now he is in a great deal of trouble.”

“I said they went where they were needed, not where they’d encounter the least trouble. What sort of trouble has the boy gotten himself into?”

“None of your concern. I do not believe your answer. The circumstances were told to him beforehand, by an Uktena witch.”

Horse Feathers twitched her tail slightly, then resettled. “I told him no such thing. I was quite vague.” 

“Prophesy is always vague until after the fact.”

“I told him no more than he wanted to hear, some properly wise sounding words that he could attach whatever significance he wanted to them. He didn’t want an answer, he wanted a puzzle.”

“What did he ask you?”

Horse Feathers considered for a moment. So far the creature was being talkative and if she shared a little, she could wheedle more out of it. You need bait to catch fish. “He was delivering a message, but wanted advice while he was here. He said he owed a life, that he’d unfairly taken it from someone and could not let it go. He felt tainted by this thing he’d done, that he somehow couldn’t enjoy life as he should because of it. He wanted his mind put at rest.” She had everyone’s attention.

“And what did you tell him?”

“Paradise lies in the shadow of swords.”

“What?” Silvertongue barked, heedless of the enemies facing them. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not meant to. I know what it means...to me. What it meant to him, I do not know. It was not meant as prophesy, but he may well have taken it that way.”

The man grinned. “That is all I needed to hear. Our errand is done then and we will take our payment, three times over. Perfect.” The cold air hummed with tension as the man gathered its power about it.

“Horse Feathers, can you make it leave? Now would be a good time.” Duncan growled and shifted uneasily, loathe to strike at someone who was simply a host for the real evil.

“Paradise lies in the shadow of swords, Duncan. Fight carefully.” Horse Feathers unexpectedly darted foward and clamped her jaws into the throat of the dog. The others sprang into action as soon as they recovered from the surprise.

The dog twisted and thrashed, unable to break free of the hold the wolf had on its neck. The bane riding it grew ever more furious at being held immobile and tore itself free from the constraints of flesh. Horse Feather’s released her hold as Raza Materialized fully, dodging away from the mouthful of razors and rending claws. The golden retriever collapsed from the shock of the bane leaving its flesh. Horse Feather rereated quickly, afraid that she’d be unable to even damage the furious Bane due to the spines sprouting from its fur and the armor across its forequarters. 

Teeth snapped at her heels and the whiplike tail cracked across Silvertongue’s nose when she tried to take the Bane from behind. 

Duncan had squarred off with the blind man. Silvertongue was torn between helping him and going to Horse Feather’s aid. “Go!” the barked command made up her mind. Duncan could deal with the man, if that was the appropriate term at all.

Duncan’s fur stood on end as something materialized in the man’s hand, and then cracked across his muzzle. The whip seemed to dance with a foul intelligence of its own. The man laughed, a hideous wet burbling sound like the cry of someone drowning. The whip cracked again and he could see in some way it was not really a weapon at all, but an extension of the man, some foul tentacle emanating from the spirit that rode his body.

Duncan leaped and dodged out of the way of the whip, trying to get in to do something. He did not know what yet. But the man dodged his blows and the whip slowly opened shallow bleeding wounds all across Duncan’s chest. He lunged and hit the man sharply in the head, hoping to knock him out. He staggered for a moment, but did not go down.

Duncan had raked him across the face and broken the dark glasses, leaving one blazing red eye exposed. Ancient memories stirred from times long ago, when the Fianna faced ancient fomori armies lead by a terrible leader with one blazing red eye. All hesitation gone, Duncan leaped for his foe, intent only upon rending him into little pieces. 

His fur was stained red to the elbow by the time it registered that his foe had fled, leaving only the body of the poor man it had taken over. This was not the foe of old. This was not someone who had let banes warp and twist their body willingly, merely someone who had been unlucky enough to be ridden by a Bane and rent apart by a Garou who could not see the difference in the heat of battle.

Duncan howled until he was hoarse, furious to be cheated out of killing the spirit that had brought him to stain his hands so. The dog howled along with him, mourning her dead master, knowing nothing of why he had died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fianna and Uktena introduced! every tribe except Stargazers had two characters in the block, most of the Wyrm factions had 3. There were 37 characters in all that needed to be included in this thing, so there's a lot of these sorts of "meanwhile..." type scenes.


	9. Beer & pretzels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to get a clue.
> 
> Mostly they get snacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTHING BAD HAPPENS!
> 
> A rare chapter free of murder and mayhem.

“Well now what the hell are we supposed to do!?” Fade-to-Black kicked at a tumbling newspaper in irritation. She growled and snarled at it unintelligibly as she tried to get it back off her claws.

“You are overreacting. You get so worked up over nothing at all.” Sweet-Luna’s-Smile was a calm as her pack mate was frantic.

“Nothing!? Nothing!?” Fade hurled a beer bottle at a wall and seemed quite satisfied with the bang it made as it exploded into tiny fragments. “They were shooting silver bullets. The COPS. Not special muckety-muck-high-faluting-I-got-my-melted- down-silver-crucifix-bullets-and-I’m-wearing-an-entire-wreath-of-garlic-and-wolfsbane- because-I-can’t-keep-werewolves-and-vampires-straight hunters, but our standard parking ticket issuing, skateboarder hassling, donut eating cops!”

“You’re still over reacting. They did afterall have two fomori with them.”

“Great, so we’ve got Wyrm-tainted silver bullet spewing fomori cops!” Fade made to grab another bottle.

“Drink it first, then throw it.” Fine Whine moved the bottle out of Fade’s reach.

“I don’t want a drink! I wanna kill something!” she snarled.

“Maybe if you didn’t insist on ranting and raving in Crinos, you wouldn’t be so worked up. Wear something with a little less madness under the skin.” Cheesy Poofs declined the bottle Fine Whine offered him. Fade-to-Black, Lone Wolf Circles, and Paradise were the only ones in the gathering not in Homid. “’Sides, if you don’t drink it, Fine will, and you know what an awful temper she has.”

“You shut up or I’ll show you awful temper…” Fine Whine glared at her pack mate and took back her beer.

“So, this is how you come up with a plan?” Azhar was eyeing the whole goings on quite suspiciously, particularly the beer. The expression on his face clearly said he was not entirely sure it was not going to leap out of the bottle and bite him.

“Yup. Beer and pretzels. And other snack foods. Twinkie?” The massive Bone Gnawer offered him a rather flattened but still wrapped one.

“And the beer and pretzels do what?” Azhar’s expression had grown even more grave. Clearly the Twinkie was the mortal enemy of all Gaia loving creatures from the look he was giving the snack cake.

“Fine Whine drinks the beer and gets herself all worked up to really cut loose and kill something. Sweet Luna gets her whole self-riotious Zen master thing going. Fade rants and raves and works herself into a good proper frothing state and then takes the pretzels and chucks them and reads the patterns and decides what we’re going to do, you know like throwing bones or something to predict the future.” Cheesy Poofs nodded sagely.

Azhar looked amazed. “She can really read the future by throwing pretzels?”

“Ask him what he does during all this.” Ghiyath poked Azhar in the ribs.

“Oh yes, so what do you do during all this?”

“I eat the Twinkie so if I gotta bite a fomor, it’s a relief. Gets the Twinkie taste to go away!” Poofs whacked Azhar on the back and roared with laughter.

“He really had you going there.” Ghiyath looked amused.

“So there is no pretzel tossing?” Azhar looked miffed.

“Nah. Though if she gets worked up enough she might throw some garbage cans. If she settles down, she’ll eat some of them. The pretzels, I mean.” He looked at the frothing Glass Walker. “Hey, Fade, wanna pretzel?”

“NO!!” Fade threw a garbage can lid at Poofs, which he noisily deflected.

“Aren’t you at all concerned someone will hear all this noise and call the police?” Azhar looked towards the alley entrance nervously. They sat in an empty lot in between several gutted warehouses. They had started a fire in a steel drum from some of the trash piled in the lot.

“Nah. Who’s going to hear and care? Nobody but the homeless and junkies here. They sure ain’t calling the cops.”

“No, no, I suppose not. But when are we going to figure out what to do?”

“About which problem?” Lone Wolf peered out of the cardboard box he had holed up in with Paradise. The pup was happily curled up between his forelegs.

“Well, any of them.” Azhar craned his neck to look into the box. 

“I do not think that the police problem is something we will be much help with. We do not know anything about the area. It is best left to them.” Lone Wolf shook his head.

“Damn skippy. We’ve been dealing with the police all by ourselves for a good long while. You guys have yourselves a furry little problem of your own to deal with, plus several big furry problems that are interested in it too.” Poofs fell silent as he started in on the offensive Twinkie. Azhar watched in disgust.

“Yes. Very talkative ones. Usually they come and kill and maim and don’t talk. He is very odd. He likes the sound of his own voice, I think.” Lone Wolf rose, careful not to disturb the cub. It was difficult to speak properly as a wolf with his tail stuck in a box.

“Yeah, he was a little weird for a Spiral.” Ghiyath commented, having now given up watching Fade savage a used tire.

“Not from around here, that’s for sure.” Fine Whine chipped in. Everyone seemed to have agreed huddling together around the fire was a much better idea than attracting Fade’s attention right now. Hopefully she would spend her fury on inanimate objects.

“He is not from the west of the city either. We had never seen him until he attacked our caern.” Lone Wolf sat down at Poofs’ feet like a dog before his master. “Give me a pretzel.”

The Bone Gnawer looked at him like he had two heads. “You aren’t gonna eat a pretzel. You’re a Red Talon.”

“And I want a pretzel.”

“Wolves shouldn’t even be able to say ‘pretzel’”

“I am very talented. Give me a pretzel for performing a very clever trick.”

“Next you’re going to want a beer”

“No, I want a pretzel.” Poofs gave in and gave the Talon a pretzel. He proceeded to sit there and lick the salt off the thing.

“I’m not giving you another one if you’re just gonna lick the salt off.” Poofs wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I am. Too much salt is bad for her. These will go soft if I lick them enough and the pup can eat them. Because I am not giving her any of the other things you have to eat.”

“Hey, guys, now that we’ve finished our little pretzel licking sidetrip, could we get back to the actual subject? Where the hell this guy came from.” Ghiyath meanwhile had claimed a beer for himself.

“Well, you should know best, shouldn’t you? He was after all chasing you when he attacked the Red Talons.” Azhar was still strictly hands off the snack food.

“I don’t know where he came from either. I’m minding my own business, puzzling over this prophesy an Uktena witch gave me, I find Paradise and what’s left of her mother and suddenly a few hours later, I have a horde of Spirals chasing me.”

“He really seems to want her back.” Lone Wolf nudged an unlicked pretzel towards Azhar’s foot. The Silver Fang was looking at it like it was a cockroach.

“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t hear all of the conversation.”

“He said he really didn’t want you, he was chasing something else and you just interfered.” Azhar flicked the pretzel back at Lone Wolf.

“Yeah, with his plans to torture and murder other Garou. You didn’t see what a mess that place was, she’d been pinned down with her own Klaive, the pup with a short dagger she had.” Ghiyath pulled the dagger in question out and idly flipped it through his fingers before putting it away again.

“Are you sure it wasn’t another Black Spiral Dancer?” Lone Wolf shoved the pretzel back at the Silver Fang, daring him to reject it this time.

“She didn’t look like one...” Ghiyath started to say before Azhar cut him off.

“And neither does he. The ones with him, they looked, well like they should. We have them in Israel too, and they look very similar. Their skin is just a different color when they are human, and they wear different clothes. They look the same otherwise. He did not look right. He did not belong with them.” Azhar eyed the pretzel and picked it up.

Ghiyath sighed. “Great, so we’ve got funny looking Black Spirals nobody’s ever heard of chasing us because we might be carrying around a Spiral cub. Or we might not. Who can tell?”

“A Theurge could, by asking the spirits. Or summoning the spirit of the mother, if he knew her name.” Fine Whine chimed in.

“I suppose. The spirits here are kind of strange, and I don’t know the mother’s name. Doesn’t your pack have a Theurge?” Azhar seemed genuinely curious.

“Yeah. Haunts-the-Skyline is still off looking for Sweet-Luna though, hopefully picking up David too.” Fine Whine seemed amused by the fact that their pack mate had missed the entire fight.

“Yeah, maybe David would know how to tell!” Poofs perked up at the thought.

“If he doesn’t punch your lights out first. He’s a Child of Gaia, not a Spiral. It’s not like he actually really knows that much. He’s just got really gross parents.” Fine Whine explained.

“Oh.” Azhar contemplated his feet, all too familiar with the shame of having less than perfect parents.

“And David isn’t all gross looking either.” Fine Whine continued on, ignoring Azhar’s sudden quiet.

“So the cub could be a Black Spiral pup.” Lone Wolf looked into the box at the sleeping pup.

“But she’s so cute!” Ghiyath protested.

“She’s still a metis.” Lone Wolf shook his head, correcting him.

“She’s still cute.” Ghiyath glared at Lone Wolf, daring him to argue further.

“Yeah, it’s odd, but there’s nothing obviously wrong with her. Metis Spirals are supposed to be really super deformed and insane but there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with her.” Poofs ignored everyone else’s moodiness.

“She is very quiet. Perhaps too quiet. It is as if she has no fight in her.” Lone Wolf got up to check on the pup at his comment.

“She’s got plenty of fight, she survived getting skewered on a big silver dagger.” As Ghiyath pulled out the knife is question.

“Yeah, tough little thing.” As Poofs examined it and then passed it on for other people to look at. “Maybe she just hasn’t recovered yet.”

“Well there must be something wrong with her and we just don’t know what it is yet. Sometimes it takes awhile to show up.” Azhar nodded as if this explained everything.

“And we’re right back on square one. We’ve got a metis pup that might or might not be a Black Spiral pup and a big, mean, definite Black Spiral who wants her back.” Ghiyath sighed.

“After he tried to kill her. Which is very odd. This Spiral gets odder and odder the more I think about him and what he said. I’m not sure he’s evil. I’m not even sure he’s really a Black Spiral.” Azhar absentmindedly ate the pretzel Lone Wolf had spent so much time trying to get him to take.

“Well the ones with him sure were!” Ghiyath jumped up, unfortunately attracting the attention of Fade-to-Black.

“What are you lot talking about? You plotting trouble!?” Fade stormed over.

“Calm down. They were merely talking, Fade.” Sweet Luna, Fade’s perpetual shadow, appeared out of the gloom.

“Yes. Have a pretzel. They are very good.” Azhar smiled sweetly.

“Ha!” Lone Wolf barked in amusement.

“Why are there a bunch of soggy pretzels on the ground?”

“You don’t want to know. Just don’t eat them. Do you know anything more about the Black Spiral that was doing the talking? The large black one.” Azhar moved over to let the agitated Glass Walker sit. Sweet Luna settled on the cold ground, looking relieved that Fade was finally calming down.

“Him? Not a damn thing. It makes me so frustrated!” Fade waved her fist around in frustration, and everyone spent a moment not breathing, trying to avoid getting a punch in the nose. 

“Fade, have a pretzel and calm down.” Sweet Luna offered her a handful.

“I don’t want to calm down. But I’ll have a pretzel.” There was a nigh audible sigh from everyone present. She had accepted the food offering. She would at least be reasonable now.

“The other ones were yelling back and forth and I think I recognized the name. I think they’re out of New York City. Kabula and F’Foeg something. Fine Whine, do you remember the story? The one the Grass Roots pack told us when they were visiting?”

“They told an awful lot of stories. I think I know the one you mean, the one with the battle with a Spiral called Hellroarer?”

“Yeah, I think Kabula and F’Foeg were names of some of the other Spirals.”

“Spiral names are always so hard to remember. There was the Hellroarer, an albino, a tattooed one, a big muscle bound male, one with a big undershot jaw and I don’t remember anything about the other one except that it drooled a lot.”

“I don’t suppose he told you his name?” Fade has settled into eating pretzels, her mood now as calm and carefree as it had been wild and surly a few minutes before.

“No, unfortunately.” Azhar shook his head. “It didn’t occur to me to ask. I think he would have told me if I asked. Stupid of me not to.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at him, but the Hellroarer was described as being a whole lot meaner and more disgusting, but that may have been Galliard embellishment. They were both dark furred though. I don’t know why they’d be up from New York City though. Not like Rutland’s a real exciting place.”

“Yet suddenly we have cops packing silver.” Poofs rubbed at the raw wound where he had taken a silver bullet.

“Yes, but they were also shooting at the Spirals too.” Azhar scratched at an ear in a thoughtful motion.

“Hey, now that you got me thinking about someone other than the main guy, I think I recognized the fourth one.” Ghiyath chimed in. “Not personally though. I heard a story from another Strider, Zoe Sense-of-Snow, who said she’d tangled with a batlike female Spiral while in the Finger Lakes area. The description pretty well matched the forth one, and Zoe said she hadn’t killed it and couldn’t find it again when she brought some Wendigo back to the area to root out the Spirals.”

“And there are several dead Spirals back at the Sept of Luna’s Den, and many more who got away. There were so many we thought we were being invaded. There are more than just the four we saw.” Lone Wolf now sat taking pretzels from Fade’s hand. 

“Bigger than the pack the Grass Roots pack tangled with, the Hellroarer’s pack?” Lone Wolf now had Fade’s undivided attention.

“Yes, I would say fifteen or twenty of them.” Lone Wolf nodded in an unwolflike gesture, to reinforce his statement.

Fade whistled. “Damn big pack.”

“Like out of one of the old stories of the age of legends. These are not just common idiot Spirals either. The leader, if we are to believe him, said they were pursuing something far worse than themselves, something that used to be a Shadow Lord. What evil is loose that our enemies hunt it?”” Azhar sounded deeply worried.

“Or is it just evil for them and good for us? He is a Spiral, he’s probably lying.” Sweet-Luna added, startling the rest of them as she had been so quiet as to become invisible.

“I am not entirely convinced he is a Black Spiral Dancer.” Azhar scratched at an ear, very uncertainly, and stared at his feet.

“So who the hell else runs around with a bunch of Black Spiral Dancers at their beck and call?” Fade poked him in the nose to get his attention.

“I don’t know. No normal Garou would. But... some tribes dance closer to the Wyrm than others, or so stories say.” Azhar resisted the urge to go back to looking at his feet.

“Or slander.” Lone Wolf nodded sagely.

“Well, yes. But even if I am wrong and he is a Black Spiral, perhaps they would know better who he is.”

“So who you going to go ask? The Shadow Lords? The Uktena? Go track down the Grass Roots pack and see if this guy is the Hellroarer they fought and he’s just got himself a big new pack?” Fade watched him closely, as did the rest of them. 

“Um, I think we need to talk about that first. It’s not as if I speak for Lone Wolf and Ghiyath.” Azhar squirmed under the attention.

“You are a Silver Fang, and you led well enough in battle.” Lone Wolf chipped in.

“That wasn’t really leading.” His gaze was creeping towards his feet again.

“Okay, herding people in the right direction then. I don’t have any objection to following you, since you seem to have some mystical insight on the situation.” Ghiyath nodded, agreeing with Lone Wolf.

“But... you’re both more experienced...and... and...you’re Philodox...and...” He was slowly turning crimson as he stared at his feet.

“And you are a Silver Fang. Don’t you want to lead?” Lone Wolf cocked his head at him oddly, the gaze from his one good eye seeming to bore through Azhar’s skull.

“No. No... I...I’m not fit to lead.”

“But why?”

“I...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more character knocked off the "you must use them" list. Zoe Sense-of-Snow the other Strider in this set. The other Glass Walker (Haunts the SKyline) and Child of Gaia (David MacKenzie) first get mentioned here, appear later.
> 
> The Hellroarer did NOT actually appear in Rage, nor most of the other Abyss Leapers pack. Just Kabula and F'Foeg S'Sap.   
> Stats for the Abyss Leapers occur in Book of the WYrm 1st edition page 79-81


	10. Back at the police station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who were the people that broke up the earlier battle?

Sun streamed in the police chief’s office window, but Hans’ mood did not match the weather. Once again, things had not gone as planned. A relatively simple operation was being slowed down by bureaucratic red tape. Of course, this was not entirely bad for his employer. The longer Hans and his team were working with the police, the easier it would be to recruit them into the service of The Company.

“This is what you get for tying our hands. If you would give us free rein, your wild dog problem would not be a problem.” Hans smiled, but his tone indicated he was irritated with the whole situation.

The police chief shook his head, refusing to be intimidated. “We can’t just have some paramilitary strike force running through the streets shooting at everything that moves on four feet. It just won’t work.” 

Hans carefully steepled his fingers in front of him, trying to sound neutral. “I think most of the wild shooting last night was done by your men, not mine. Only Mugsy and Skippy were out. He’s only got a little .38 and the dog sure didn’t shoot anyone. We probably could have mopped it all up last night if you didn’t insist I stay here with your dispatcher.”

The chief slammed a fist into his desk and a vein throbbed on his head. “I will not be told how to do my job by a bunch of hired thugs!”

“We’re highly trained hired thugs that are providing specialized training to your force… at no cost to the department. You should be glad Mr. Birch loaned us to you. It was very kind of him. You wouldn’t want him to think you didn’t like his gift?” Hans looked away briefly, towards the door, as is he was anticipating someone walking through it any moment.

The chief paled, reminded of just whom was paying for this much needed operation. He glanced towards the door, clearly afraid Mr. Birch would come in any moment. “Of course, of course we are grateful to Mr. Birch for bringing his business here and for providing us with help! However, we wouldn’t want him to get any bad publicity from his generous gift, so we are being very careful…”

“Too careful. We are used to working as a team. You’ve split us up to patrol with your forces. They’re trained for traffic stops and dealing with law abiding people, not wild animals. We do animals.” Hans smiled, showing off very, very white teeth that looked unusually sharp for a human.

The chief shuffled some paper around on his desk, clearly frazzled now. “Yes, yes, I understand that, but we don’t want our citizens panicking and calling us about gunshots. It’s not like we have a gang problem here, or lots of murders. People shooting in the streets attract lots of notice.”

“Your people were doing all the shooting. They panicked. My men are seasoned and can calmly take an animal down in a single shot. We can’t do that is we are left shepherding rookies.”

The chief’s hands stilled and he eyed Hans suspiciously. “What exactly is it that you do for Mr. Birch? I never did get a straight answer on why he needed a bunch of hunters on staff for a utility company.” 

“We’re from one of his other holdings, a biotechnology firm. We get specimens for them.” Hans kept his tone casual, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t see how that works, don’t they use mice and guinea pigs and things?”

“If it’s new, they need samples. They can’t order the latest strain of rabies from a catalog. We have to go catch an animal with the disease. It’s not easy. They’re dangerous. They don’t send scientists to do that, they send hunters.” 

The chief paled slightly. “Oh god, ours aren’t diseased, are they?”

“We don’t know. Mr. Birch is concerned. Coyotes have attacked some people at his facility while they were working outside. Animals are usually shy unless they’re sick. He’s worried that the coyotes here might be sick. Sometimes they pick up diseases from dogs. Your dogs are being very aggressive.”

The police chief swallowed convulsively. “So you want to make sure they’re not sick?” 

“One was drooling buckets. Another one had a swollen looking head. They did not look healthy. You can ask your officer.” Hans was grinning again, enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

“No, no, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Maybe you should shoot all the dogs first, then finish training my men so they can get any you missed.”

“We don’t miss.”

“Right, right. Why don’t you get right on that?”

“My pleasure.” Hans adjusted his hat and sauntered out to go assemble his team. 

Hans’ team had taken over a cramped conference room at the police station to plot their strategy. An interrogation room would have been bigger, but there was no telling who might be looking through the one way glass at them. Better to be cramped than attract too much attention. The Company did not like attention. It had far too many secrets to hide, and the attention of the police was about the last thing it wanted. Hans was very fond of his paycheck, so made sure to keep his team as discreet as possible. Not that this was always easy…

“The first one was all pretty looking, then there was the two sick looking ones, and there was a big bastard that was like a fucking bear, a speedy one that jumped the one with the big head…” Mugshot had been ticking each of them off on his fingers, but seemed lost now that he’d gotten to five and run out of fingers.

Michael held a hand in front of Mugshot, who proceeded to use that to count on. “And one with a pile of braids that screamed like a banshee, a little white one, one with a bad eye, a dark one, and I think maybe one more. I didn’t get a good look at the last couple ‘cause they did the vanishing thing. I hate that.”

“And I hate when you jam my fingers, Mugsy. Don’t push so hard.” Michael shook his abused hand. He was slight to begin with, but looked particularly fragile sitting next to Mugshot. One of Mugshot’s forearms was easily as big around as Michael’s thigh. 

“Hey, I was countin’ on that!” Mugshot loomed threateningly over the smaller man, who was looking desperately around for someone to intervene.

“Nine. The total was nine, with a tenth possible.” Judas idly spun around in an office chair in the conference room, staring at the ceiling. Nobody wanted to sit next to Judas, so he had plenty of room. Judas looked crazy, and not in a funny kind of way. Skippy would gladly attack a werewolf, but if left alone in a room with Judas, would cower and piddle in the corner farthest away from him. 

“And I don’t like being called Mugsy, neither. It’s Mugshot.” The huge man sniffed slightly, proud of his name.

“Hello, reality check. We are in a police precinct, we are not going to call you that.” Two thousand four hundred and eighty seven. There were two thousand four hundred and eighty seven tiny holes in the ceiling tile over Judas’ chair. He had counted them all three times while Mugshot had been struggling to count to ten.

“Mugsy ain’t my name. I don’t want to be called that.” Mugshot rumbled and the chair creaked ominously under his bulk.

“So your mommy named you Mugshot?” Judas stopped spinning and settled into trying to stare down Mugshot.

“No, but she didn’t call me Mugsy, neither. And I bet your Momma didn’t call you Judas, unless she really hated you. She must with a face like that. Must have cursed when you was born.”

“Would you two stop fighting?” Hans had been attempting to ignore the bickering while he wrote down Mugshot’s descriptions on the chalk board, but felt compelled to break it up now that they were insulting each other’s mothers.

“We are not fighting. I can not have a battle of wits with an unarmed man.” Judas went back to spinning in his chair.

“I got arms!” Mugshot flexed his biceps impressively.

“See?”

“Alright, you’re so smart, who signs your check?” Hans put down the chalk and dusted off his hands.

Judas looked ever so slightly perplexed, not quite following the sudden change in subject. “Mr. Birch signs my paycheck.”

“Yeah, he signs all our paychecks, including Mugsy’s. If you want to keep seeing his John Hancock every week, stop being such an asshole.” Hans fixed the smaller man with a look saying this would be the end of this discussion, or else.

All was quiet for a moment, only the sound of Skippy panting under the table breaking the silence. Then Mugshot spoke. “I though we worked for George Birch, not John Hancock.”

“Mugsy, don’t think unless we ask you to, alright?”

“Okay, Hans.”

“Now that we have a count of how many werewolves it looks like we’re dealing with, how does our ammo supply look, Michael?” Hans turned to look at the youngest, and thankfully, least troublesome, member of his team.

Michael pushed his glasses up on his nose and consulted his paperwork. “Not so good. We aren’t equipped right now to deal with a pack that large. Most of the packs we’ve encountered previously were around five or six strong, not ten. Letting the police have some of the special ammo has depleted our supply. I have some on order, but it will be a few days, possibly a week before it arrives.”

“Can you get it here any faster?”

“It is coming by overnight shipping. The holdup is in the manufacturing end.”

“Damn.”

“I have more bad news. I’ve been reviewing the police reports and I don’t think ten is an accurate count. I think 14 or 15 is a more accurate count. There’s descriptions here that don’t even vaguely match Mugsy’s or the officers that were with him.”

“That’s an awful lot of werewolves.”

“Well, there may be some good news, but I’d like Mugsy to clarify something.”

Mugshot looked blank. “Huh?”

“You said there was a fast one that jumped one of the other ones.”

“Yeah.”

“Were they fighting?”

“Yeah, they were going at it, I think. The pretty one I shot from the car got jumped on by the two sick looking ones, then another one jumped ‘em. Made a big dog pile.”

“I see where you’re going.” Hans picked up the chalk and underlined two of the descriptions. “We’ve got two different groups.”

“At least two, possibly three even. Mugsy did not see the whole fight, so we may have had two groups of werewolves arguing. From the description on some of them, it sounds like we may have some of our agents here already.”

“The only problem with your theory, Michael, is they’re not on the payroll. They aren’t working for The Company.”

Michael’s brow wrinkled. “I thought they all worked for The Company. Well, except for the ones we shoot.”

“No, some are free agents. They sort of have the same goals, but don’t work for us. Yet. Give them a good package and they quickly realize it’s better to work for us.” Hans studied the descriptions on the chalkboard carefully.

“What sort of things would convince them to work for us?”

Hans turned back to look at Michael. “It varies a lot, but all you need to do is find out what they want and give it to them. Some it’s simple, you give them a years' worth of free pizza. Some want a six-figure salary. Some want the heart of a virgin every six months. They’re like people, but with more unusual tastes.”

“So we shootin’ or recruitin’?” Mugshot asked.

“First we figure out how many of each type we have, then we’ll decide. Michael, would you read off the other descriptions you have in your reports?” Hans turned back to the chalkboard, and copied down the new descriptions as they were read. If they could recruit some, or even just get two groups to fight, they stood a much better chance of success. Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The year's worth of pizza actually shows up on the card "Pentex Recruitment". It's the BSD's signing bonus!
> 
> ...you don't want to know what kind of toppings it has.
> 
> AND THAT'S IT. ALL THE WYRM CHARACTERS GOT INTRODUCED!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally make headway on solving some mysteries... just not necessarily the ones they thought they were trying to solve.

“Have you been crying?” Lone Wolf Circles peered around the corner at Azhar, who had turned to look at him when he’d heard his approach.

“Why do you care? Go away.” Azhar was sitting on the curb after running away from the gathering of Garou a few blocks away.

“You left suddenly and were upset. I was concerned.” Lone Wolf edged out further onto the street, peering around carefully.

“You mean you thought I’d lose my temper and go crazy and do something dumb. Hurt somebody or get seen by the police or something.” Azhar hunched his shoulders up, and turned his back on Lone Wolf. If he couldn’t see him, he could pretend he couldn’t hear him either.

It was quiet for a moment or two before Lone Wolf spoke, now in a human voice. Azhar startled, not having expected that. “No, I thought you would get lost.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Azhar scowled at Lone Wolf, now in Homid form. “Where are your shoes?”

“Paradise is sleeping in them. One of them, at least. She’s just small enough to fit, if she curls up.” Lone Wolf sat down on the curb by Azhar.

“She only fits because your feet are so big, that or your shoes are really big.” Azhar stared at the Talon’s feet where they rested in some snow. The cold did not seem to bother him in the slightest. Azhar wished he were home. It would be warm there.

“Are they? I have never compared them. Let me see your feet.” Lone Wolf put a hand on Azhar’s shin and tugged slightly.

“This is silly.” Azhar edged away slightly, out of touching range.

Lone Wolf moved back into position, and put his hand back on Azhar’s leg “I do not get the chance to compare them to other Red Talon’s human feet, so I will have to compare them to yours. You do not have funny feet, do you?”

“No.” Azhar edged away again, though not quite out of touching range.

Lone Wolf tugged at Azhar’s shoelaces. “Good, take off your shoes.”

“This is silly.”

“You said that. I will never know if they are big if I do not see for myself. I like to see things for myself, not just take others word for it.” Lone Wolf tugged at Azhar’s shoe again, twisting it awkwardly.

“Alright, alright, already. Let me take them off before you pull my foot off.” Azhar untied his shoes and pulled off his socks, wincing as he put his feet down on the icy pavement.

Lone Wolf studied his own feet for a moment, then stared intently at Azhar’s. He picked one up and turned it slightly so he could look at the bottom. “They look very similar. I do not know why you seem so very fascinated by your feet. You could stare at mine. They have much more hair on them. I think they are more interesting than yours.”

Azhar blushed. “I don’t stare at them that much.”

“I think I see more of the top of your head than I do of your eyes.”

“Oh.” Azhar found himself looking at his own feet again, and forced himself to look at Lone Wolf’s instead. The Talon’s feet were broad and hairy with dark, knobby nails. By contrast, Azhar’s looked quite delicate and almost girlish.

“See? They are very fascinating. Watch, if I curl my toes it makes all these lines appear on top of my foot.” Lone Wolf did just that, so the tendons stood out. “It is very interesting to watch it work. They are not like my normal feet. I could watch them for hours. Maybe you could too.”

“I don’t think I could be entertained by my feet for hours at a time.”

“That is because you are thinking too much about the past.”

Azhar wrinkled his nose slightly, brows knitting together. “What? I don’t see how that relates.”

“You have seen your feet everyday for all your life. You know what they are like. You do not see your feet anymore; you see the memory of your feet. You no longer see what marvels they are.”

“My feet?” Azhar looked back at his own feet, which were starting to acquire a bluish cast beneath his tan due to the cold.

“Any of you. Your feet, your hands, your tail, all the variations of your body as you change shapes. “ Lone Wolf pointed to each area in turn. “You are a Garou, one of Gaia’s greatest creations. How can you not be fascinated by each and every part of what She spent so much effort making?”

“But, they’re still the same feet I have every day.” Azhar sounded perplexed, but stared at his feet intently, as if he could make them tell him what Lone Wolf meant.

“No, they are not. They change every day. Every day you live changes them and you must look at them fresh each day and see the here and now, not just what is in the past. You spend too much time knowing, Azhar, not enough time seeing.”

“I suppose. I just know things, things I never learned and make no sense. They pull me here and there and everywhere and they’re just so confusing!” Azhar balled his fists, wishing there were something he could strike.

Lone Wolf draped a warm, hairy arm about Azhar’s shoulder and gestured with the other one. “They make no sense because you are only knowing, not seeing. You know, but refuse to see, to hear, to smell, to experience what you need to understand why your knowing has brought you somewhere.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Obviously. Wolves live very much in the now. The now is as huge as the sky. The past is the ground upon which they walk; the future is the rabbit they chase. For humans, it is different. The past and future are all, there is very little now. Because of your knowing, you miss the now and what it can tell you about the past.”

Azhar turned his head slightly to look into the Talon’s good eye. “So, what, I need to live only for the moment?” 

Lone Wolf shook his head slightly. “No. Garou are fortunate because they can have both perspectives. Your past is dominating you, you need to see more of the now.”

“I…I… guess you’re right.” Azhar looked down again, and then forced himself to look back at Lone Wolf’s face.

The Talon grinned broadly, like a wolf just before its jaws snap shut on an unwary rabbit. “You said before that you were unfit to lead. I see nothing wrong with you. You say this because of something in the past, yes?”

“Yes…I… it just won’t work.” This time Azhar looked down and kept his eyes downcast.

“Look at the now, not the past. Are you sick? Are you insane?” The last made Azhar look up and scowl at Lone Wolf.

“No, I’m healthy and sane.”

“And you seem to have special insight into the current situation. You are a good choice as a pack leader.” Lone Wolf was grinning even more broadly now.

“But I’m too young!”

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Ha!” The Talon’s barked. “Then you are plenty old enough. I am only twelve. Or maybe thirteen. I do not count very well.”

“How come you’re so wise then?” There was a slight sulking tone to Azhar’s voice, upset that the younger Garou might well make a better Theurge than himself.

“I am not wise, merely thoughtful. Humans grow very slow too.” Lone Wolf nodded slightly and patted Azhar on an arm, trying to soothe his wounded pride.

“Ghiyath’s older than I am.” Azhar sounded only slightly mollified.

“So?” Lone Wolf shrugged. “I do not think he would be a good leader. Paradise may not be his cub, but he will defend her like his own. He is a good protector, but he is too focused on that to lead a pack. He knows he is distracted and is willing to follow you. You will do a better job.”

“Yes, you’re right. He would probably be a good war leader, but he’s too focused on defense right now to puzzle things out. So why can’t you lead? You’re wise.”

“I am too young. You said so yourself.” Lone Wolf nodded.

“I said *I* was too young.”

The Talon was grinning again. Azhar was running out of avenues of escape. “And I am younger than you, so, therefore I am too young too.” 

“You said humans age slower. You look older than I do. You could do it.” Azhar seemed quite determined to foist this responsibility off on Lone Wolf, but the Talon would have none of it.

“I am blind in one eye.” Lone Wolf pointed at his white, sightless eye.

“You’ve got a battle scar, you must know how to fight better than I do.” Azhar sounded more confident now.

Lone Wolf dropped his voice to a bare whisper. “It’s not a battle scar.”

“You’ve got a claw mark right across your eye, it’s a scar.” Azhar traced his finger along the path of the scar, not quite touching Lone Wolf.

“But not a battle scar. I made the mark.”

Azhar drew back slightly, eyes going wide. “You blinded yourself?”

“No, I was born blind and deaf on that side as well.” Lone Wolf nodded gravely.

“But, why?” Azhar’s voice was raised slightly now, confused.

Lone Wolf tapped Azhar on the nose. “You are not stupid.”

“You’re a metis?” Lone Wolf merely nodded. “So you made the scar to fake being normal? You’ve been lying about it?” Azhar shifted uncomfortably, and considered pulling away from the Talon.

“Not lying, merely letting people make the wrong conclusion.”

“It’s like lying!” Azhar was getting agitated again.

“Shhh. Keep your voice down. This just makes things much easier for my sept.”

“So they told you to lie?” Azhar was still being too loud.

“I am deaf on the other side, but if you do not lower your voice, I will be deaf on this one too. Now then, no they did not precisely tell me to lie. Wolves are very poor liars and have trouble wrapping their mind around lying. Being deceptive they understand, outright lying they do not. You just did not bother asking me if I was a lupus. If you had asked, I would have said no. See the difference?”

Azhar finally lowered his voice, apparently somewhat mollified by that explanation. “I guess so. That’s awful…sneaky.”

“Red Talons are good at sneaky, bad at lying.” Lone Wolf grinned again.

“So your sept didn’t quite tell you to lie, but sort of wanted you to? I don’t understand.”

“I could tell you, but I might get in trouble if you repeat it. You will not?” Lone Wolf scrutinized Azhar carefully. The Fang squirmed a little under his gaze. Lone Wolf seemed to have more power in his one eye than most Garou did in two.

“I can keep a secret. I’m good at that.” Azhar scowled, looking deeply unhappy over counting that as a skill.

“Okay then. Red Talons usually kill their metis. Sometimes they kill the parents too. I am not the only metis at my sept. One of them was purposely made.”

“What? But that’s against the litany!” Azhar’s volume was rising again. “Oops. Sorry.”

“You are forgiven for the outburst. It is shocking. It made the elders very unhappy, but was necessary. The Litany also says, ‘take no action that causes a caern to be violated.’ They understood that this meant it was also forbidden to let inaction harm a caern.”

“But…”

“Let me finish. It will all make sense, but it is very sad. The wild is shrinking. The humans have driven the wolves from much of the world. There are no truly wild wolves in the forests here anymore. The only wolves left are our Kinfolk, and we must keep them close to the caern to keep the humans from finding them. They are very crowded. Most of the pups born are Kinfolk, not Garou. If we are lucky, perhaps there is one born every three or four years. The pack is small. It must stay small, or it will be found and they will all be killed.”

“One every four years doesn’t sound that bad. That’s better odds than with humans. I was the first my family had in, well, more than 50 years.” Azhar flushed slightly and stared at his feet again.

“Yes, but how many of your siblings lived?”

“All but one, I think. Mother doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Lone Wolf shook his head. “Your Kinfolk have human things to make you better. There is sickness here that will not go away. Some years all the new pups have died.”

“That’s awful! Can’t you fix it?” Azhar managed to keep his voice under control for the moment.

“The Theurges can do some, but we do not know what causes it. It seems to be normal diseases. They can heal them over and over again, but can not seem to get rid of the disease totally. The pups just become sick again and will never grow strong. It makes the Theurges sick in their hearts. They lay down and do not wish to get up. They can not fix this and it breaks their will so they too sometimes die.”

Azhar was quiet for a few minutes, trying to imagine what it would be like to lose all his siblings. He wasn’t sure if wolves understood things quite the same way, but the Garou surely grieved for the passing of their Kinfolk. He thought of how his mother would not speak of the sibling he had lost and the haunted look in her eye. How much worse must it be for a Garou to lose a whole litter at once, year after year?

He cleared his throat, which had gone tight thinking about such tragedy. “Why not just breed more? Maybe if there were more cubs, some might survive.”

“Then what would we do if they all lived? Where would we put thirty or forty new wolves? They would be seen and killed. Humans would hunt all our kinfolk down, and we would not even have hope.” Lone Wolf was solemn. Even if he could not have cubs himself, he clearly felt the pain of his sept mates.

“And you won’t breed with humans.” Azhar pulled back slightly, afraid his words might anger the Talon.

“Not won’t, can’t.” Lone Wolf shook his head, but didn’t sound angry at the suggestion. “Human courtship is so alien to us that it just does work. So few Talons even know how to speak a human language, it is practically impossible for us to form a friendship with a human. Mating with one is even more unlikely. Even if one could figure out how to do so, Griffin would not accept them as a Red Talon. At least metis are wild enough to be accepted by Griffin.”

“Can’t you get Garou from other tribes to come?”

“We can take no Homids. The caern totem will not have it. The other tribes value their lupus too much. They want them to stay with them and breed. If they came here, their cubs might die too. So we must take metis. But only strong ones. They still kill the worst ones. I was lucky they did not know I was partially deaf until I grew old enough to defend myself. They probably would have killed me. None of the packs will let me run with them now.” Lone Wolf sounded sad, but resigned. Clearly he understood why he was outcast, and knew how much his very presence disturbed the other Talons.

“Did your parents… purposely…” Azhar licked his lips, afraid to go on.

“No. I do not know why they broke the Litany. Perhaps they saw what was coming and knew that it would be easier to take if there were a metis there already, to ease the pain. Maybe they were mad.” Lone Wolf shrugged. “I do not know. They are both dead now.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“They died fighting the Wyrm, defending our caern. That is what Garou are meant to do. I sat and watched their bodes until the ravens picked their bones clean.” The Talon sounded very matter of fact, but there was still an undertone of sadness to his words.

“So you sat shiva for them?"

“What?” Lone Wolf looked at him sharply, curious now.

“It’s a Jewish thing.” Azhar felt slightly embarrassed at having interrupted Lone Wolf’s brooding.

“A what?” The Talon blinked, his melancholy mood draining away.

“Humans have lots of different religions. Some of my relatives are Jewish. When a person dies, they have week of ritual mourning where they reflect on life and death. The immediate family mourns at home, and friends and more distant relatives come to console them and talk about the person who died.” Azhar smiled slightly, glad to see curiosity was pushing away Lone Wolf’s grief.

“I would think all humans would do so. They are very attached to each other.” Lone Wolf nodded, still serious, but not nearly so grim.

“No, many of the other religions seem to try and get people back to their normal life very quickly, to get over the death without sitting and thinking about it very long. They think their soul has gone to heaven, which is better than this world, so they should be happy they are dead. They say prayers to urge them on their way and comfort their family saying they are in a better place now.”

“No wonder humans have such problems, if they are so blind to death.”

“Probably. And they fight about religion too. A lot.”

“What is there to fight about?” Lone Wolf looked perplexed.

“What to eat, what not to eat, what to wear, what not to wear, whether you should have a beard or not, what happens when you die, whether it’s a sin to have more than one wife or not, who are the chosen people of god and who aren’t, whether there even is one god or if there’s many, and a million other things to fight over, and sometimes kill each other.”

“Perhaps the Wyrm gave them religion to try and destroy them.” Lone Wolf looked off into the distance, mind far away, contemplating this possibility.

Azhar sighed. “I don’t think so, but sometimes the Wyrm uses religion to spread its influence. It’s sad. I think it’s because people can’t see the spirits all around them anymore. If they could just see them, they would not argue so much.”

“So much?” Lone Wolf looked back at him curiously.

“I think arguing is a sport with some people.”

“A sport?”

“A game, but more organized.”

“Like get-the-stick? I do not see how you can be more organized playing get-the-stick.” Lone Wolf shook his head, looking puzzled.

“What does get-the-stick involve?”

“Someone has the stick. You chase them and try and get the stick from them, and then they chase you. I am good at getting the stick, but not good at keeping it. I like that game.” Lone Wolf grinned.

Azhar smiled back at him. “That’s pretty well how most sports work, except they use a ball and there’s teams that work to get the ball and put it somewhere specific to get points. Whoever has the most points wins.”

“I think get-the-stick sounds easier to play. But I want to see these sports sometime. I think I would be good at them. I would be good at arguing.”

“Arguing’s not really a sport…. Well, I guess it is, it’s called debate.”

“Why not just call it arguing?”

“It has specific rules.”

“Always with the rules. There is too much of the Weaver in the humans where they cannot even argue without rules. I am good at arguing.” Lone Wolf looked proud.

“I’d noticed. You are very persuasive. You really think I should be the pack leader?” Azhar looked at him, pleased that the Talon seemed to be back in a good mood.

“You are a Silver Fang, it is in your blood. You would want to lead eventually. This prevents you from having a fight with Ghiyath about it later.”

“You really think we would be together that long?” Lone Wolf shrugged in response, so Azhar continued on. “I still think you would make a better pack leader.”

“A leader must listen to his pack and lead. I cannot lead. I have trouble seeing or hearing anyone on one side of me. It is even harder if they are somewhat behind me. If I were leading, I would be in front. I would not hear the council of my packmates until it was too late. If I am behind you, I can hear and see you clearly.”

“You’re sure?”

“How can I miss a big glowing werewolf?”

Azhar laughed. “Alright, alright, you persuaded me. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it, but I’ll try.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are just full of great stories, boy-o. I’m sure Fine Whine can come up with a real side splitter about the Fang who got frost bite.” Fade-to-Black elbowed Azhar in the ribs.

“How come you aren’t picking on Lone Wolf over this? He tore up his feet worse than I did.” Azhar was sitting with his feet perilously close to the Neverending Fire pack’s oil drum fire, trying to get the chill out of them.

“That’s because Sweet Luna’s busy poking him in squirmy places plus; you’re the all high and mighty pack leader now. It’s my job to heckle you.” Fade grinned at Azhar.

“Yeah, it was funny as hell. You two came back and made the big announcement and then realized you’d both froze your bare feet to the pavement. It was damn funny. Only way it could have been funnier if it was your ass,”” Cheesy Poofs threw some more wood on the fire, sending up a shower of sparks. Azhar pulled his feet away before he added burns to his list of ills.

“We can’t get going until you two have sound feet. You’d have enough trouble keeping up with me normally. With you lame it will be impossible. Even if it funny, it’s inconvenient.” Ghiyath was sitting polishing the knife he’d claimed from the dead woman, scowling at Azhar, obviously reconsidering the wisdom of following the younger Fang.

“Even if our feet were perfect, we should eat and sleep before going. We should be fresh and rested while travelling if we have those Black Spirals hunting for us. If we stay with the Neverending Fire pack until we’ve all had a chance to rest they can keep watch. If that’s alright by them.” Azhar tilted his head slightly at Fade-to-Black, making the last a question.

Fade nodded. “Watching’s most of what we do. I think there’s too many of us for the Spirals to want to attack again, but if you three took off immediately they’ve got at least one on you, numberswise, right away. I’d send one of the boys with you as an escort, but this thing with the cops and the silver bullets, this I really don’t like.” Fade’s words were informal, bordering on flippant, but there was a worried undertone in her voice. 

“I think we’ll do alright even without the escort. I don’t think the Spirals are that interested in attacking us for the moment. They snuck up on us before, and then they talked instead of leaping into the fight.” Azhar kept his voice even, betraying no worry. The Neverending Fire pack had already aided them a great deal, the least he could do to thank them was try and reassure their leader.

“I don’t much care for any of this.” Ghiyath slid the knife back into its sheath. “Cops armed with silver bullets, Spirals that want to talk instead of kill us, or things worse than Spirals, if you weren’t just hallucinating that one.”

“I know what I saw... and put my claws through. It was like a Garou with a great sucking hole where it’s heart should be and cold, so very cold. It was like putting my hand into a snow drift.” Azhar wiped his hands on his pants, trying to forget the feel of the creature’s flesh.

“So what are you boys going to do about it? We’ll handle the cops, but the Spirals, they seem to be your extra special problem.” Fade stretched and yawned loudly. It had been an exciting evening.

“Oh joy, just what I always wanted. My very own lunatic Spiral shadow.” Ghiyath rolled his eyes. “But what are we going to do?” He turned his eyes to Azhar.

The Fang crossed his arms and seemed to be thinking very seriously. “I think we should go see the Shadow Lords.”

“You aren’t taking that Spiral seriously, about that thing you saw being a Shadow Lord?” Ghiyath seemed deeply unhappy about this coarse of action.

“Yes, and no. If he wasn’t lying, we would be idiots not to talk to the Shadow Lords. If he is lying, I’m sure the Lords will be interested to hear that the Spirals are claiming one of their own has made the top of the Spirals most wanted listed. Even if this Allonzo isn’t a Shadow Lord, they may know why the Spiral would be making that claim, and who among the Spirals would have reason to make up stories like that.”

There was a lull in the conversation while everyone digested Azhar’s reasoning. Cheesy Poofs broke the silence, “They ain’t gonna like you claiming they know that much about Spirals, especially since you’re a Fang.”

Azhar sighed. “I just need to phrase the question correctly. The Shadow Lords may not be well liked, but they always manage to stay well informed anyway. They can wheedle information out of just about anyone, by fair means or foul. We’re asking them because they are the ones most likely to know. Of course we will compensate them by providing them with information.”

“Sneaky. I don’t know, though, the Uktena might have more info, or even the Bone Gnawers. We’re good with information.” Poofs nodded for emphasis, looking proud of his tribe’s skill.

Azhar smiled at Cheesy Poofs, picking his words carefully so as not to offend the other Garou. “Yes, you and the rest of your pack have been really helpful, but the Bone Gnawers don’t get out of the city that much. Everybody talks to the Shadow Lords, if only because they’re trying to keep an eye on them.”

Poofs seemed mollified, and shrugged his massive shoulders. “Got me there. Not like the Talons talk to us, but they talk to the Lords. Lone Wolf didn’t know nothing, but that doesn’t mean the other ones don’t.”

“Right. So we should go see the Shadow Lords since even if they don’t know the information, they should have a good idea who does. There’s only one stumbling block here. I don’t know where the Shadow Lords are.” Azhar turned his eyes to his packmate. “Ghiyath, you get to be the navigator for this.”

“Alright.” Ghiyath nodded, now satisfied with Azhar’s decision as pack leader. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad choice. “We’ll leave in the morning for New York state; after everybody’s slept.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came and with it, a new set of problems. Snow had started sometime after Azhar had gone to sleep, blanketing the town in a fresh new coat of white. It was Sunday, so the plows were in no hurry to clear less trafficked areas. Despite having slept inside, Azhar was chilled to the bone. Again. He wondered if the building was heated at all, since when he want outside, it didn’t feel any colder.

There was a strange new man tending the fire in the oil drum, and Azhar had the brief worry that he’d gone sleep walking and followed the Spirals. The man was ugly, really ugly. Cheesy Poofs was sitting by the barrel eating something, so things could not be too bad.

The Bone Gnawer waved at him, in Homid form. “David made...hot squishy stuff. You want some?”

“Do I want to know what you mean by ‘squishy stuff’?” Azhar rubbed his hands together, trying to get some feeling back.

“It’s half a package of cream of wheat and half a tin of oatmeal. We didn’t have enough of either to feed everyone, and we only had one pot. Do you want some or not?” The strange man picked up a grimy looking bowl while looking at Azhar. His voice was harsh and angry sounding.

“If it’s hot yes. Thank you for making it, David. I’m Azhar Serpent-Slayer of the Sept of the Shattered Stone Spring. I heard you missed everything.”

“Poofs filled me in. Probably for the best I missed it.” David ladled some of the hot glop into the grimy bowl and handed it to Azhar along with a fork. 

“Yes, there were lots of silver bullets being used. We’re lucky so few of your pack got hit with them.” Azhar shortly found that the hot stuff could be eaten with a fork because it was so lumpy. Cooking was clearly not one of David’s strengths. 

“I don’t much care for Spirals either.”

“Yes, the combination was a bit much. But the Spirals got shot at too. Thing could have been much worse if they’d been working with the police.” Now that Azhar had time to look at the other man, he had decided he was scarred, rather than deformed. Maybe if David stopped being so gruff, he’d ask about the scars.

“That’d be the day.” David’s voice grew even harsher and grating. “Last thing we need is the cops playing with the Wyrm.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure they were just doing what they thought was necessary.” 

“I don’t like it that they thought silver bullets were necessary.” David sounded slightly less gruff, but his voice was still harsh. 

“Maybe some of them have seen the pack? If any of them are Kinfolk and don’t know it they could remember the encounter and be frightened by it.” Azhar scraped at the bowl, trying to get the last of the glop off the bottom.

“We keep real good track of our Kinfolk.” Poofs rumbled, slightly upset.

“I didn’t mean they were yours necessarily.” Azhar smiled, but kept his eyes slightly downcast so as not to seem like he was challenging the much bigger Bonegnawer. “They could be related to any number of tribes. My family lost track of quite a few people when they moved to the United States. We keep very close track of our Kin. If even we misplaced some, imagine how many people laxer tribes misplaced.”

Poofs seemed to accept the explanation and settled back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ok then. Maybe you’re right. But usually we’re careful not to get seen in Crinos.”

“It only takes once though, and it might not even be us. The Black Spirals aren’t always so careful. It’s worth considering there’s some lost Kinfolk on the police force.” David’s words were soothing, but his voice was still grating. Azhar looked at him a bit more carefully and decided that David really wasn’t being intentionally gruff, the scars on his face and throat just made his voice sound harsh.

“Where’s the rest of your pack?” Azhar asked David, looking at him a bit sidelong.

“And where’s yours?” he snapped back. Azhar reconsidered. Maybe David really was that perpetually angry.

“Fair question. Lone Wolf was still sleeping. Ghiyath I’m not sure where he is.”

“He went that way after breakfast,” Cheesy Poofs pointed down an alley “looking like he had urgent early morning business.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Maybe I should go find him.” Azhar frowned.

“Naaaaah, I think he can manage pissing all on his own.” Azhar blushed and Poofs and David both had a good laugh at him.

“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” 

“Oh yeah. If we’re lucky, Lone Wolf will too. You guys are loads of entertainment. Too bad you have to go. You come back when you’re done to tell us the story.”

Azhar stood up. “You really want to hear a story about that short a trip?”

“The LONG one, not the one to find a wall.” Poofs swatted slightly at Azhar as the Fang headed off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azhar, Ghiyath, and Lone Wolf Circles finally set off with Paradise and a pile of food supplies the Neverending Fire pack had donated. They would not lack for beef jerky for awhile. Paradise was curled up in the bottom of the backpack again, sucking on a Slim Jim. She occasionally made contented little noises.

They were on the outskirts of Rutland, trying to get their bearings. The police had been out in force this morning and the Neverending Fire pack had lead them through an endless maze of side streets and backalleys to avoid the cops. Azhar’s pack did not expect any trouble, but if any of the cops stopped to question them, things could would become difficult. Lone Wolf had no ID and one eye, Azhar had an Israeli visa but appeared to be an Arab, and Paradise... there was just no explanation for her. The only way they be more suspicious is if they wore prison jumpsuits. It was better to avoid the police all together, just in case they were on the lookout for Garou. 

Azhar stared up at the clear blue sky, watching his breath forms clouds of steam in the cold. “Is the Neverending Fire pack always so...jolly?” 

Ghiyath looked up from the map he was consulting. “Jolly? I think you mean ‘do they always give everybody such a hard time?’.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

“Answer, yes. If they hadn’t been so stressed, they would have been even more slap happy. That’s what happens when you have two Ragabash in charge. It’s a laugh a minute.” Ghiyath folded up the map and tucked it back in his pocket.

“Everyone else was just as happy though. It was very pleasant, despite the trouble.”

“The mood of the pack is determined by the alpha wolf. A somber wolf has a serious pack. A playful one has a joyful one. Even if the members are naturally inclined to some other mood, their mood will reflect that of their leader.” Lone Wolf chimed in. “Therefore it is your job to be happy and confident, so we can be too.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Azhar scowled.

“You’re not looking happy. We shall be the pack of Horrible Scowling!” Lone Wolf scowled ridiculously at Azhar, crossing his arms and trying to look very, very serious. “We shall sneer dramatically at the Spirals and they will flee from our impressive seriousness!”

Ghiyath was looking at Lone Wolf like he’d taken leave of his senses. “No more beer with breakfast for you, ever.”

Azhar snorted slightly at the two of them. “Have you figured out what route we’re taking? Or are we going to watch him prance around some more first?”

“It’s tempting to watch him some more... but, yes, I have. We need to go about a mile southwest.” Ghiyath pointed towards a stand of trees on a nearby hill. “Then we should be safe to cross into the Umbra. We can travel faster there, but we should get further away from the city first.”

The three trudged off. Lone Wolf still seemed to be in fairly high spirits, though whether this was due to finally leaving the city or to the small amount of beer he’d had with his porridge, it was hard to tell. They made good time to the stand of trees. The snow was soft and powdery and not too deep, so was relatively easy to walk in.

“Keep going southwest once we’re on the other side. There should be a path on the far side of the woods with a stag guarding it. We probably won’t all arrive at the same time, so we should all meet back up there.” Lone Wolf and Azhar nodded at Ghiyath, who winked out of view as soon as he’d finished speaking.

Azhar found himself trudging through the woods by himself, which seemed flat and washed out, as if all the color had melted away. The snow suddenly felt thick and cloying, and Azhar found himself thinking of breakfast. He was wading through porridge...

The sensation quickly passed and the color returned to the scene. In the Umbra the trees seemed simultaneously more real and less real. In the dim light of the Umbra, their colors seemed muted, but when he steadied himself against a tree trunk, he could feel a slight thrum beneath his fingertips. He looks up at the dim Umbral sky, then around at the trees. It was the depths of winter in the real world, but here, dry leaves still clung to the branches, stirring slightly in a nonexistant breeze. 

Azhar continued walking in the direction Ghiyath had indicated, listening to the rustling leaves. There were already buds on the tips of the branches, waiting to burst forth in bloom at any moment. Azhar trailed his fingers across the bark of a particularly large tree, feeling the slight pulse in the wood, as if it had its own heartbeat. The grove felt alive, even though it’s real world counterpart seemed dead. Winter was merely a period of rest between periods of active growth.

Azhar heard Ghiyath before he saw him. The Strider caught up with him a few moments later and looked at him curiously. “I figured Lone Wolf would be with you. I brought us here since it would be easy to crossover. He should be here by now.”

Azhar shrugged “Maybe he’s up ahead, then. We’ll find out once we get to the path.”

They came to the path in a few moments, but there was no sign of Lone Wolf. They looked back at the grove, but saw no sign of him slipping through the trees.

“Do you think maybe he’s stuck?” Azhar scratched at an ear uncertainly.

“Seems kind of unlikely. It’s pretty easy to get to the Umbra here. I don’t think he’d get stuck.” Ghiyath now looked concerned, and put his hand on the klaive he was carrying. 

The two looked at each other for a moment, then back at the woods as there was a flurry of excited barking. The two looked at each other, unsure what to do next. 

The barking hadn’t sounded at all distressed, so they didn’t feel the need to immediately run to investigate. Lone Wolf arrived a minute or so later carrying Paradise. Both looked perfectly healthy.

“What was that all about? And what took you so long?” Azhar tried not to sound too worried, since Lone Wolf seemed to be fine.

Lone Wolf put Paradise down, who promptly squeaked when she touched the snow. “I was carrying Paradise. We are not in the same pack, so I could not just lead her across, I had to coax her.”

“Coax her?” Ghiyath looked puzzled.

“Ohh, I see. He had to get her to do it herself.” Azhar seemed quite impressed.

“But she’s just a baby!” Ghiyath looked down at Paradise, who was snuggling up against Lone Wolf, trying to get off the cold ground. 

“And this is a good way to protect herself against predators. She is too small to fight, does not run fast, so getting where they can not reach her is good.” Lone Wolf licked Paradise on top of her head, making her squeak again.

Ghiyath crossed his arms across his chest, radiating disbelief. “So you’re telling me metis can step sideways that early? How come I never heard about this?” 

“Who would tell you such things?” Lone Wolf cocked his head at Ghiyath, seeming to look at him with the bad eye.

Ghiyath shifted from foot to foot before backing down. “Alright then. You know, this is going to make it hard to keep track of her once she can run on her own.”

“Of course, this is why metis cubs are so difficult to take care of.” Lone Wolf looked toward the path. “Enough of this. We should get going.”

Ghiyath gave Azhar a slight shove in the shoulders. “Your turn. When we find the stag, we need to get permission to use his path. You can do the talking.”

Lone Wolf picked Paradise back up and the three started walking along the edge of the path, in search of the local guardian spirit. Lone Wolf walked as a wolf while Ghiyath and Azhar were in Homid. After about twenty minutes, they found the stag pawing at a frozen brook to crack the scrim of ice on it.

The stag was a magnificent beast, even in winter. Its coat was a shiny rust color and sleek, with the belly and tail so pure a white they seemed to blend in with the fresh snow. The antlers were magnificent and the pack had trouble counting how many tines were on the rack. The stag raised its head and stomped a wickedly sharp looking hoof at the Garou. Ghiyath and Lone Wolf backed off slightly, leaving Azhar in front.

Azhar stared at the deer, momentarily at a loss for words. It was much bigger than he had expected. Maybe he could treat it like an antelope. He had dealt with many of those in his homeland, but they were a lot smaller. He would be polite. Few spirits were offended by polite entreaties, unless they were spirits of mischief or disorder.

Azhar turned slightly, so he was not staring directly at the stag anymore. “Protector of the forest, mighty stag, we are seeking passage to a Shadow Lord stronghold many days walk from here, near a caern controlled by the Get of Fenris. There are enemies of Gaia who would seek to delay us. We would like to use your hidden path through the forests to get there quickly and safely. We can not wait until evening when we could take a moon path. The Silent Striders of this land have dealt with you many times and speak highly of your wayfaring skills.”

The deer stomped again. “They come and go like shadows. I would not have my path become a highway. What would you offer me for passage along it?”

Azhar considered for a moment. “I could give you a lock of my hair to tie around your antlers. Then you would smell like a Garou, and would be able to frighten many malicious spirits away from your woodlands.”

“That is a good trade. I know the place you seek. I will show you the path you must take.” The stag lowered its head into a less aggressive posture, and started walking off. Azhar waved at Lone Wolf and Ghiyath to follow.

The three followed the stag in what seemed to be circles until they came to a patch of brambles by an oak tree. The stag pawed at the ground and a small opening appeared in the brambles. “Follow this path and it will take you to an oak grove near the Shadow Lord enclave. You will come out of another patch of brambles there. When you reach the end, search for an acorn, and throw it into the opening to close the path. Do not step off the path, or you may end up lost.”

“Thank you stag. If you would bend down slightly, I will tie on the hair for you.” Azhar waited until the stag lowered its antlers to about chest height on him before pulling some of his hair out and tying it to one of the upper tines.

Ghiyath shifted to Lupus and took the lead. Lone Wolf took the middle carrying Paradise. Azhar shifted to Lupus form and followed, with one last look over his shoulder at the stag before vanishing into the darkness among the brambles.

The path was narrow and dark. It was amazing that anything the size of a deer could travel along it. The three wolves found it uncomfortably close. It wound around trees, over piles of rocks, and straight through thorn bushes which never seemed to scratch them. It went beneath a fallen log at one point, and they were forced to crawl under it on their bellies.

Azhar looked off to the side at one point and saw Ghiyath seemingly trotting off back the way they had just came. He looked forward and could see Ghiyath’s tail ahead, so it was clearly just a trick to lure them off the path. He occasionally heard the sounds of animals in the forest, but being unfamiliar with the local wildlife, could not tell what kind they were. A rabbit startled right by the edge of the path and Lone Wolf nearly dropped Paradise so he could go chase the tasty morsel. Azhar bit his tail to keep him focused.

They finally came out of the path of brambles in the oak grove many hours later. Ghiyath and Azhar sniffed around searching for some acorns left undisturbed by the squirrels. Lone Wolf rested, tired from carrying Paradise on his jaws the whole walk.

Ghiyath found an acorn first, but let Azhar throw it into the opening in the brambles. The hole closed so that it was impossible to tell there had ever been a path.

“How much farther do we have to go before we reach the Shadow Lords, Ghiyath?”

“We can step back to the real world now. It’s maybe another half hour if I was running by myself. Since I have you two and we’re carrying Paradise, it’s probably another hour.”

“Maybe you should carry Paradise now, since you run faster.” Azhar looked over at where Lone Wolf was yawning mightily, over and over, apparently trying to work the tension out of his jaws. “Lone Wolf looks tired. Paradise’s a bit heavy. This way we’ll be better able to keep up.” 

“Good idea. Let’s get back to the real world and beat it. Maybe the Shadow Lords will feed us something other than beef jerky.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They pack saw discreetly carved glyphs about twenty minutes before they reached their destination. They howled to announce themselves, and were greeted with a chorus of answering howls. They did not sound quite like Garou however, and a few minutes later they ran into a pack of Kinfolk wolves. The wolves were not happy to see them. The packleader in particular was displeased to see three unknown young male wolves intruding on his territory. They were forced to detour around the pack of wolves to avoid a confrontation.

A few minutes later, they actually ran into two Garou guardians, who were clearly waiting for them to arrive. They were big burly looking wolves with dark fur. One had a cracked tooth that only made his teeth look even sharper and the other was covered in battlescars that streaked her fur with white.

“Who comes into our territory?” the one with the cracked tooth snarled.

Azhar paused for a moment, until Lone Wolf nudged him in the hip with his nose. Right, he was the pack leader. “We are three young Garou in a newly formed pack....”

“There’s four of you.” The scarred one leered at them.

“Paradise is too young to be in a pack. We are just caring for her. She is an orphan.”

“She is not yours?” the one with the cracked tooth stared at the pup as if he was considering what to do with it.

“We are her guardians. There is a pack of Black Spiral Dancer that seem very determined to kill her or steal her from us. The Spirals came from some point west of the Sept of Luna’s Den, and we hoped the Shadow Lords here had fought them before and might have some information on our foes.”

“We have fought many Black Spirals Dancers.” The scared one shifted slightly to show off a particularly impressive scar across her flank.

“The one chasing us is very impressive and talks a lot. He made an accusation that his pack was also hunting a Shadow Lord, or an ex-Shadow Lord according to him. If it is, it must be a very mighty Shadow Lord. The pack he was commanding seemed to be at least fifteen strong.”

“You must be joking! There are no packs of Spirals that large here!” The scarred one snarled derisively.

“The Sept of Luna’s Den killed eight. We ran into four more later, and there seem to be even more, but we are uncertain how many. It may not be one pack, it may be several under the command of one powerful Spiral.”

“This is very serious. We will take you to see the leader.” The scarred one seemed much more concerned now.

“She is meeting with that foreign Uktena. They will have to wait. We can take them to the lodge.” The one with the cracked tooth said.

“We need to feed the cub sometime soon. If we could go somewhere with food...?”

“Yes, you can eat, then we will take you to the Alpha.”

 

The three travelers got a hot meal and a roaring fire to sit in front of while they waited. The scarred wolf had turned out to be named Spinecracker, and the one with the cracked tooth was Bela Sable, two Ahrouns that patrolled the area. Now that they determined the pack had serious business, they stopped being quite so aggressive. Spinecracker was actually babysitting Paradise and watching her inexpertly attempt to catch a large hairy spider she had found in the woodpile.

The lodge seemed to actually be part of a complex of buildings. Bela briefly explained that the Shadow Lords had taken over an old tourist attraction in the Adirondack Mountains that was home to some powerful spirits. The Lords took it over and the houses and buildings near it. They had since added some more houses for their Kinfolk to live in, turning it into a sort of private village. It looked a bit as if someone had taken a village out of their traditional homelands and plunked it down in the Americas.

The had a few hours relax before the eldest Shadow Lord there was available to talk to them. Azhar and Lone Wolf described the Spirals chasing them several times to other Shadow Lords that had come to see the new arrivals, but no one seemed familiar with any of them, or with who they were chasing. Ghiyath described the sacrifice he had come across, but no one seemed sure what ritual the Spirals could be performing. Everyone felt the need to check out Paradise, to see what sort of cub could survive such a mighty wound while a baby and live. Spinecracker said it was clearly a sign she would be a mighty Ahroun when she grew up.

Azhar’s pack was finally escorted to the Alpha’s private house, which was an imposing stone structure on a small promontory jutting out from the mountainside. It was decorated with trophies taken from fallen foes. The pack was kept waiting for a few moments in the cold foyer before being ushered into the parlor. 

The alpha was a striking woman with dazzling eyes and remarkable physical assets. She was beautiful, with dark hair and flashing green eyes. Much more impressive, however, was the force of her personality. She exuded an aura of power and sensuality that clearly said she would use every method at her disposal to get what she wanted. Ghiyath swallowed loudly when he realized he’d been staring at innapropriate parts. The stare was not lost on her. 

“I am a busy woman, boys, let’s get down to business. I am Sylvan-Ivanovich-Sylvan-Black-Daughter-of-Ivan-Ironclaw-the-Great, leader of the Shadow Lords in the Adirondacks. Who are you, where are you from, and what do you want?”

“I am Azhar Serpent-Slayer, a Cliath Theurge Silver Fang of House Wiseheart, from the Sept of the Shattered Stone Spring in Israel. I am the leader of this pack.”

Sylvan raised an eyebrow at him “You’re a long way from home, and awfully young to be a pack leader.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know. I came to see the court of the king and met up with these two, and we decided to form a temporary pack to deal with our current problems. That” as he pointed at Ghiyath “is Ghiyath, a Philodox of the Silent Striders. He runs a message loop through New England. And our last member is Lone Wolf Circles, a Philodox of the Red Talons, from the Sept of Luna’s Den.”

“He’s awfully clean looking for a Red Talon.” Sylvan eyed Lone Wolf, who stared back with his good eye. The Shadow Lord oddly yielded first, apparently disturbed by him.

“He makes sure to wash behind his ears, ma’am.” Azhar smiled a bit too broadly.

She pursed her lips at him, disapprovingly. “Don’t be fresh.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

“Now why have you come to see us?”

Azhar went through the whole story again. He found it easier to remember all the details now that he’d repeated them so many times. He occasionally asked Ghiyath or Lone Wolf to elaborate on the parts they were more familiar with. Sylvan grew increasingly grim as the story progressed. She occasionally asked questions and seemed particularly interested in the description of Allonzo and Azhar’s reaction to the unknown Black Spiral Dancer.

She sat quietly for a few moments after he finished speaking, resting her chin on her fist. As the silence continued, Azhar shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure what to do next. Lone Wolf stared at the trophies and weapons hung on the wall. Ghiyath just tried to avoid staring at Sylvan.

Sylvan finally spoke in a low murmur, almost like she was speaking to herself rather than the pack. “I have heard rumors of Allonzo before, but they are usually dismissed as morality tales about dealing too closely with the Wyrm. He is a sort of boogey-man for the Shadow Lords. All the stories of encounters with him I have heard were of a friend of a friend of a friend who had seen him first hand. You are the first people I have heard from who have seen him first hand.” Sylvan looked extremely grim.

“But, ma’am, what is he?” Azhar shuffled slightly, not wanting to meet the elder’s gaze. “I have never heard stories of him before.”

“We do not usually tell those stories at moots where other tribes are present. Allonzo is a vampire werewolf, an Abomination.” Sylvan spat the last word, making it a name and a curse in one.

“Oh. I see. We have stories of those in my homeland, but they talk of that happening to one of the Silent Striders.” Azhar looked over at Ghiyath, who was now looking at him intensely. “Those are usually about how it is better to run and live to fight another day than go down fighting vampires. You never know what they might do with your corpse.”

“A wise precaution. Vampires are one of the least of the Wyrm’s minions, and not usually worth our time. Allonzo is said to have succumbed to despair while fighting vampires and let them turn him into one. His lack of conviction doomed him. I find it odd that a Black Spiral Dancer would know the story, or be hunting him.” Sylvan drummed her fingers on her armrest, thinking.

“Perhaps he ran into Allonzo on his own and took a dislike to him.” Azhar didn’t sound at all convinced with that theory.

“Or is a Shadow Lord himself. Or former one.” Sylvan said what was on the pack’s mind, but no one wanted to say. “We will have to try and hunt both of them down. Allonzo we will kill. If we can catch and interrogate the Spiral, that would be better, but killing him may be the only option.”

“We are glad for the aid of the Shadow Lords, ma’am. The pack was too big for us the handle alone, or even with the help of the Neverending Fire pack.” Azhar sounded genuinely relieved that the Shadow Lords would handle the problem, but in his heart he was uncertain whether the leader of the Spirals deserved to be interrogated or killed by the Lords.

Sylvan continued, apparently oblivious to Azhar’s inner turmoil. “I am deeply concerned that the Wyrm is moving in force. The Uktena have reported increased Bane activity as well. They have lost some of their scouts in skirmishes. From the description you gave of the woman you found killed, it may be a missing messenger of theirs. She was transporting a fetish, but it does not match the description of the klaive you found. That means the Spirals probably have it in their possession.”

“Do you know what her name was and if the cub I found was hers?” Ghiyath seemed suddenly excited over the prospect of finding out more about Paradise.

“The messenger’s name was Judy Summer’s-Sister of the Children of Gaia. The Uktena mentioned nothing about a cub just that she was transporting a fetish for them. He was very cagey about the whole affair and would not elaborate on why they were not having an Uktena do it or using more traditional messengers.” A slightly irritated tone had crept into Sylvan’s voice. Clearly she was unhappy that she had been unable to wring more info from the Uktena. “The Uktena want the fetish back very badly, and wished our aid in locating it.”

“Is the Uktena still here? Can we talk to him?” Ghiyath was practically bouncing with excitement at the prospect of solving the mystery of Paradise’s origins.

“You are welcome to, but he told me very little. He may tell you even less. I will speak with you again tomorrow, once I have had time to reflect.” Sylvan curtly waved a hand at them, pointing to the door. “For now, you are dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S ALL I WROTE FOR AZRAEL. They eventually lost license to continue work on Rage, so had me stop storyline for tournaments for New England block. The cards were eventually fan produced from the pool and partially based on the storyline here, but not done as a licensed, printed product. Some of the cards DO carry direct quotes from storyline.
> 
> One of the Shadow Lords introduced.
> 
> Sir not appearing in this film:  
> Carlos Navarro (Shadow Lord)  
> Oriel Paolma (Black fury)  
> Daniella Black (Black Fury)  
> Gunther Odd-Eye (Get of fenris)  
> Sound Thrashing (Get of Fenris)  
> Song-of-Distant-Shores (wendigo)  
> Whispers-in-Pines (wendigo)
> 
> I managed to cram the other 30 characters that appeared in the New England block set in here. You can see all of the finished cards and character art, including the seven Sir Not Appearing In This FIlm here: http://www.werewolfcardgame.com/index.php/cards/fan-card-releases
> 
> and I left you all with a terrible tease there since it was supposed to continue as a serial.
> 
> Leave me angry "you bastard, finish the damn fic!" comments to encourage me to actually FINISH it.

**Author's Note:**

> Way back in 2000 story line tournaments for CCGs were all the rage. Things that happened in tournament scene were reflected in story line for the game. Azrael Productions was providing official tournament support for the Rage CCG at that point and decided to go that route. So all the chapters in this were originally written for their online magazine, Azrael Online (now defunct) and were given a quick read over by the Werewolf: the Apocalypse director, Ethan Skemp, to make sure nothing contradicted anything they were doing with metaplot.
> 
> I got relatively few changes requested by WW, but did get a few. I don't remember any on this particular piece, but will note the changes IF I remember them. (mostly I got notes that I had a typo)
> 
> So everything that happens here (until indicated otherwise) was read and approved by the Werewolf developer as complaint with canon.
> 
> The story structure is basically going to switch from the good guys to the bad guys. Good guys, odd numbered chapters, bad guys even numbered chapters. The structure I was given to write in was do a lead up to a big tournament (Gencon, Origins, Dragoncon, etc) and then the follow up would incorporate anything truly notable that happened at any tournaments. So sometimes I more of less got thrown a monkeywrench "Here, write this in! somehow." 
> 
> It appears here almost exactly as it originally appeared in now defunct Azrael Online. It's about 99% the same. I fixed some formatting errors and tidied up some dialog where it wasn't clear which character was talking.


End file.
